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THE  DEER   FAMILY 


A.  j. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  CARL   RUNG/ OS  AND   OTHERS 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

Ail  right i  reitrvtd 


THE   CHALLENGE 


THE  DEER   FAMILY 

BY 

THEODORE   ROOSEVELT 
T.  S.  VAN  DYKE,  D.  G.  ELLIOT 

AND 

A.  J.   STONE 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  CARL  RUNGIUS  AND   OTHERS 


Nefo  fforfc 
THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Ltd. 
1902 

Ail  rights  reserved 


Copyright,  1902, 
By  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  April,  1902. 


NartoooH  -JJireaa 

J.  8.  Cuihing  &  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Mass.  U.S.A. 


SK 
/?6  7 


FOREWORD 

This  volume  is  meant  for  the  lover  of  the 
wild,  free,  lonely  life  of  the  wilderness,  and  of 
the  hardy  pastimes  known  to  the  sojourners 
therein. 


THEODORE   ROOSEVELT. 


Vice-President's  Room, 

Washington,  D.C., 

June,  1901. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/deerfamilyOOroosiala 


CONTENTS 

THE   DEER  AND   ANTELOPE   OF   NORTH 
AMERICA 

By  Theodore  Roosevelt 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

I.  Introductory i 

II.  The  Mule-deer,  or  Rocky  Mountain  Blacktail  .  28 

III.  The  Whitetail  Deer 65 

IV.  The  Pronghorn  Antelope 98 

V.  The  Wapiti,  or  Round-horned  Elk       .        .  131 

THE   DEER   AND   ELK   OF   THE   PACIFIC 
COAST 

By  T.  S.  Van  Dyke 

I.    The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast       .        .        .        .167 

II.    The  Mule-deer 192 

III.     The  Columbia  Blacktail 226 

THE  CARIBOU.     By  D.  G.  Elliot         .        .        .        .257 

THE  MOOSE :  Where  it  Lives  and  How  it  Lives.    By 

A   J.  Stone 289 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


The  Challenge  . 

The  Blacktail  of  Colorado 

The  Whitetail  in  Flight 

Virginia  Deer  coming  to  the  Water 

The  Antelope  at  Home    . 

Stalking  Antelope     . 

A  Shot  at  Elk   . 

The  Return  from  the  Hunt 

The  Caribou  of  the  Barren  Grounds 

Caribou  Antlers  from  the  Cassiar  Mountains 

Caribou  Antlers  from  Upper  Maine 

Caribou  Antlers  from  Newfoundland    . 

Caribou  Antlers  from  Quebec 

Caribou  Antlers  from  New  Brunswick  . 

Caribou  Antlers  from  Ontario 

Caribou  Antlers  from  the  Barren  Ground 

Barren  Ground  Caribou  Hoof 

Caribou  Antlers.     Mountain  Caribou     . 

Caribou  Antlers.     Kenai  Peninsula 

Caribou  Antlers.     Greenland 

Caribou  Antlers.     Alaska 

Moose 

Moose  Antlers  from  Alaska 
Moose  Antlers  from  Alaska 
Moose  Antlers  from  Alaska 

ix 


Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

So 
76 


112 
122 

152 
236 
260 
268 
272 
272 
274 
274 
274 
278 
278 
278 
280 
284 
286 
292 
298 
302 
314 


LIST   OF   MAPS 

By  DR.  C.  HART  MERRIAM 

FACING  FAGB 

Range  of  Mule-deer 32 

Range  of  Caton's  California  Mule-deer      ...  32 

Range  of  Whitetail  Deer 68 

Range  of  Arizona  Dwarf  Whitetail      ....  68 

Range  of  Antelope  in  1900 100 

Range  of  Elk  in  1900 134 

Range  of  Blacktail  Deer 196 


THE    DEER   AND    ANTELOPE   OF 
NORTH   AMERICA 


By  Theodore  Roosevelt 


THE    DEER   AND    ANTELOPE    OF 
NORTH    AMERICA 

CHAPTER    I 

INTRODUCTORY 

With  the  exception  of  the  bison,  during  the 
period  of  its  plenty,  the  chief  game  animals  fol- 
lowed by  the  American  rifle-bearing  hunter  have 
always  been  the  different  representatives  of  the 
deer  family,  and,  out  on  the  great  plains,  the 
pronghorn  antelope.  They  were  the  game  which 
Daniel  Boone  followed  during  the  closing  decades 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  David  Crockett 
during  the  opening  decades  of  the  eighteenth ; 
and  now,  at  the  outset  of  the  twentieth  century, 
it  is  probably  not  too  much  to  say  that  ninety- 
nine  out  of  every  hundred  head  of  game  killed 
in  the  United  States  are  deer,  elk,  or  antelope. 
Indeed,  the  proportion  is  very  much  larger.  In 
certain  restricted  localities  black  bear  were  at  one 
time  very  numerous,  and  over  large  regions  the 
multitudinous  herds  of  the  bison  formed  until 
1883  the  chief  objects  of  pursuit.  But  the  bison 
have  now  vanished ;  and  though  the  black  bear  has 
held  its  own  better  than  any  other  of  the  larger 


i       Deer  and  Antebpe  of  North  America 

carnivora,  it  is  only  very  locally  that  it  has  ever 
been  plentiful  in  the  sense  that  even  now  the  elk, 
deer,  and  antelope  are  still  plentiful  over  consider- 
able tracts  of  country.  Taking  the  United  States 
as  a  whole,  the  deer  have  always  been  by  far  the 
most  numerous  of  all  game ;  they  have  held  their 
own  in  the  land  better  than  any  other  kinds ;  and 
they  have  been  the  most  common  quarry  of  the 
hunter. 

The  nomenclature  and  exact  specific  relation- 
ships of  American  deer  and  antelope  offer  diffi- 
culties not  only  to  the  hunter  but  to  the  naturalist. 
As  regards  the  nomenclature,  we  share  the  trouble 
encountered  by  all  peoples  of  European  descent 
who  have  gone  into  strange  lands.  The  incomers 
are  almost  invariably  men  who  are  not  accus- 
tomed to  scientific  precision  of  expression.  Like 
other  people,  they  do  not  like  to  invent  names 
if  they  can  by  any  possibility  make  use  of  those 
already  in  existence,  and  so  in  a  large  number 
of  cases  they  call  the  new  birds  and  animals  by 
names  applied  to  entirely  different  birds  and 
animals  of  the  Old  World  to  which,  in  the  eyes 
of  the  settlers,  they  bear  some  resemblance.  In 
South  America  the  Spaniards,  for  instance, 
christened  "  lion "  and  "  tiger "  the  great  cats 
which  are  properly  known  as  cougar  and  jaguar. 
In  South  Africa  the  Dutch  settlers,  who  came 
from  a  land  where  all  big  game  had  long  been 


Introductory  3 

exterminated,  gave  fairly  grotesque  names  to  the 
great  antelopes,  calling  them  after  the  European 
elk,  stag,  and  chamois.  The  French  did  but  little 
better  in  Canada.  Even  in  Ceylon  the  English, 
although  belonging  for  the  most  part  to  the  edu- 
cated classes,  did  no  better  than  the  ordinary 
pioneer  settlers,  miscalling  the  sambur  stag  an 
elk,  and  the  leopard  a  cheetah.  Our  own  pioneers 
behaved  in  the  same  way.  Hence  it  is  that  we 
have  no  distinctive  name  at  all  for  the  group  of 
peculiarly  American  game  birds  of  which  the  bob- 
white  is  the  typical  representative ;  and  that,  when 
we  could  not  use  the  words  quail,  partridge,  or 
pheasant,  we  went  for  our  terminology  to  the 
barn-yard,  and  called  our  fine  grouse,  fool-hens, 
sage-hens,  and  prairie-chickens.  The  bear  and 
wolf  our  people  recognized  at  once.  The  bison 
they  called  a  buffalo,  which  was  no  worse  than 
the  way  in  which  every  one  in  Europe  called  the 
Old  World  bison  an  aurochs.  The  American  true 
elk  and  reindeer  were  rechristened  moose  and 
caribou  —  excellent  names,  by  the  way,  derived 
from  the  Indian.  The  huge  stag  was  called  an 
elk.  The  extraordinary  antelope  of  the  high 
Western  peaks  was  christened  the  white  goat ;  not 
unnaturally,  as  it  has  a  most  goatlike  look.  The 
prongbuck  of  the  plains,  an  animal  standing  as 
much  alone  among  ruminants  as  does  the  giraffe, 
was    simply   called    antelope.       Even    when   we 


4       Deer  and  Antebpe  of  North  America 

invented  names  for  ourselves,  we  applied  them 
loosely.  The  ordinary  deer  is  sometimes  known 
as  the  red  deer,  sometimes  as  the  Virginia  deer, 
and  sometimes  as  the  whitetail  deer,  —  the  last 
being  by  far  the  best  and  most  distinctive  term. 
In  the  present  condition  of  zoological  research 
it  is  not  possible  to  state  accurately  how  many 
"  species "  of  deer  there  are  in  North  America, 
both  because  mammalogists  have  not  at  hand  a 
sufficient  amount  of  material  in  the  way  of  large 
series  of  specimens  from  different  localities,  and 
because  they  are  not  agreed  among  themselves  as 
to  the  value  of  "  species,"  or  indeed  as  to  exactly 
what  is  denoted  by  the  term.  Of  course,  if  we 
had  a  complete  series  of  specimens  of  extinct  and 
fossil  deer  before  us,  there  would  be  an  absolutely 
perfect  intergradation  among  all  the  existing  forms 
through  their  long-vanished  ancestral  types;  for 
the  existing  gaps  have  been  created  by  the  ex- 
tinction and  transformation  of  these  former  types. 
Where  the  gap  is  very  broad  and  well  marked 
no  difficulty  exists  in  using  terms  which  shall  ex- 
press the  difference.  Thus  the  gap  separating  the 
moose,  the  caribou,  and  the  wapiti  from  one  an- 
other, and  from  the  smaller  American  deer,  is  so 
wide,  and  there  is  so  complete  a  lack  of  transi- 
tional forms,  that  the  differences  among  them  are 
expressed  by  naturalists  by  the  use  of  different 
generic   terms.     The  gap  between  the  whitetail 


Introductory  5 

and  the  different  forms  of  blacktail,  though  much 
less,  is  also  clearly  marked.  But  when  we  come 
to  consider  the  blacktail  among  themselves,  we  find 
two  very  distinct  types  which  yet  show  a  certain 
tendency  to  intergrade ;  and  with  the  whitetail 
very  wide  differences  exist,  even  in  the  United 
States,  both  individually  among  the  deer  of  cer- 
tain localities,  and  also  as  between  all  the  deer 
of  one  locality  when  compared  with  all  the  deer  of 
another.  Our  present  knowledge  of  the  various 
forms  hardly  justifies  us  in  dogmatizing  as  to 
their  exact  relative  worth,  and  even  if  our  knowl- 
edge was  more  complete,  naturalists  are  as  yet 
wholly  at  variance  as  to  the  laws  which  should 
govern  specific  nomenclature.  However,  the 
hunter,  the  mere  field  naturalist,  and  the  lover 
of  outdoor  life,  are  only  secondarily  interested  in 
the  niceness  of  these  distinctions,  and  it  is  for 
them  that  this  volume  is  written.  Accordingly,  I 
shall  make  no  effort  to  determine  the  number  of 
different  but  closely  allied  forms  of  smaller  deer 
which  are  found  in  North  Temperate  America. 

Disregarding  the  minor  differences,  there  are 
in  North  America  in  addition  to  the  so-called 
antelope,  six  wholly  distinct  kinds  of  deer:  the 
moose,  caribou,  wapiti,  whitetail,  and  the  two 
blacktails. 

The  moose  in  its  various  forms  reaches  from 
the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  through  the  cold  bo- 


6       Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

real  forests  of  Canada,  extending  its  range  down 
into  the  United  States  in  northern  New  England, 
Minnesota,  and  along  the  Rocky  Mountains.  It 
was  exterminated  from  the  Adirondacks  in  the 
early  sixties,  about  the  time  that  the  wapiti  was 
exterminated  in  Pennsylvania,  or  very  shortly  be- 
fore. It  is  the  brother  of  the  Old  World  elk,  and 
its  huge  size,  shovel  horns,  short  neck,  swollen 
nose,  and  long  legs  distinguish  it  at  a  glance  from 
any  other  animal. 

The  caribou  is  found  throughout  most  of  the 
moose's  range,  but  it  does  not  extend  so  far  south, 
and  in  some  of  its  forms  reaches  much  farther 
north,  being  found  on  the  cold  barrens,  from  New- 
foundland to  the  shores  of  the  Arctic  Sea.  It  is 
the  only  animal  which  is  still  at  certain  seasons 
found  in  enormous  multitudes  comparable  to  the 
vast  herds  of  the  bison  in  the  old  days,  and  in 
parts  of  its  range  it  is  being  slaughtered  in 
the  same  butcherly  spirit  that  was  responsible  for 
the  extinction  of  the  bison.  The  different  kinds 
of  American  caribou  are  closely  akin  to  the  rein- 
deer of  the  Old  World,  and  their  long,  irregularly 
branched  antlers,  with  palmated  ends,  their  big 
feet,  coarse  heads,  and  stout  bodies,  render  them 
as  easily  distinguishable  as  the  moose. 

The  wapiti  or  round-horned  elk  always  had  its 
centre  of  abundance  in  the  United  States,  though 
in  the  West  it  was  also  found  far  north  of  the 


Introductory  7 

Canadian  line.  This  splendid  deer  affords  a  good 
instance  of  the  difficulty  of  deciding  what  name 
to  use  in  treating  of  our  American  game.  On 
the  one  hand,  it  is  entirely  undesirable  to  be  pe- 
dantic; and  on  the  other  hand,  it  seems  a  pity, 
at  a  time  when  speech  is  written  almost  as  much 
as  spoken,  to  use  terms  which  perpetually  require 
explanation  in  order  to  avoid  confusion.  The 
wapiti  is  not  properly  an  elk  at  all;  the  term 
wapiti  is  unexceptionable,  and  it  is  greatly  to  be 
desired  that  it  should  be  generally  adopted.  But 
unfortunately  it  has  not  been  generally  adopted. 
From  the  time  when  our  backwoodsmen  first 
began  to  hunt  the  animal  among  the  foot-hills  of 
the  Appalachian  chains  to  the  present  day,  it  has 
been  universally  known  as  elk  wherever  it  has 
been  found.  In  ordinary  speech  it  is  never 
known  as  anything  else,  and  only  an  occasional 
settler  or  hunter  would  understand  what  the  word 
wapiti  referred  to.  The  book  name  is  a  great 
deal  better  than  the  common  name ;  but  after  all, 
it  is  only  a  book  name.  The  case  is  almost  ex- 
actly parallel  to  that  of  the  buffalo,  which  was 
really  a  bison,  but  which  lived  as  the  buffalo,  died 
as  the  buffalo,  and  left  its  name  imprinted  on  our 
landscape  as  the  buffalo.  There  is  little  use  in 
trying  to  upset  a  name  which  is  imprinted  in  our 
geography  in  hundreds  of  such  titles  as  Elk 
Ridge,  Elk    Mountain,  Elkhorn    River.     Yet  in 


8       Deer  and  Antebpe  of  North  America 

the  books  it  is  often  necessary  to  call  it  the  wap- 
iti in  order  to  distinguish  it  both  from  its  differ- 
ently named  close  kinsfolk  of  the  Old  World,  and 
from  its  more  distant  relatives  with  which  it 
shares  the  name  of  elk.  It  is  the  largest  of  the 
true  deer,  and  the  noblest  and  stateliest  of  the  deer 
kind  throughout  the  world.  It  is  closely  akin  to 
the  much  smaller  European  stag  or  red  deer,  and 
still  more  closely  to  certain  Asiatic  deer,  one  of 
which  so  closely  approaches  it  in  size,  appearance, 
and  stately  presence  as  to  be  almost  indistin- 
guishable. Its  huge  and  yet  delicately  moulded 
proportions,  and  its  massive,  rounded  antlers,  the 
beam  of  which  bends  backward  from  the  head, 
while  the  tines  are  thrust  forward,  render  it  im- 
possible to  confound  it  with  any  other  species  of 
American  deer.  Owing  to  its  habitat  it  has 
suffered  from  the  persecution  of  hunters  and  set- 
tlers more  than  any  other  of  its  fellows  in  Amer- 
ica, and  the  boundaries  of  its  range  have  shrunk 
in  far  greater  proportion.  The  moose  and  caribou 
have  in  most  places  greatly  diminished  in  num- 
bers, and  have  here  and  there  been  exterminated 
altogether  from  outlying  portions  of  their  range; 
but  the  wapiti  has  completely  vanished  from 
nine-tenths  of  the  territory  over  which  it  roamed 
a  century  and  a  quarter  ago.  Although  it  was 
never  found  in  any  one  place  in  such  enormous 
numbers  as  the  bison  and  the  caribou,  it  never- 


Introductory  9 

theless  went  in  herds  far  larger  than  the  herds 
of  any  other  American  game  save  the  two  men- 
tioned, and  was  formerly  very  much  more  abun- 
dant within  the  area  of  its  distribution  than  was 
the  moose  within  the  area  of  its  distribution.  It  is 
now  almost  limited  to  certain  mountainous  areas 
in  the  Rockies  and  on  the  Pacific  coast,  —  the  Pa- 
cific coast  form  differing  from  the  ordinary  form. 

The  remaining  three  deer  are  much  more  closely 
connected  with  one  another,  all  belonging  to  the 
same  genus.  The  whitetail  has  always  been,  and 
is  now,  on  the  whole  the  commonest  of  American 
game,  and  it  has  held  its  own  better  than  any 
other  kind.  It  is  found  from  southern  Canada, 
in  various  forms,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific, 
down  into  South  America.  It  is  given  various 
names,  and  throughout  most  of  its  habitat  is 
simply  known  as  "  deer  " ;  but  wherever  it  comes 
in  contact  with  the  blacktail  it  is  almost  invari- 
ably called  whitetail.  This  is  a  very  appropriate 
name,  for  its  tail  is  habitually  so  carried  as  to  be 
extremely  conspicuous,  being  white  and  bushy,  only 
the  middle  part  above  being  dark  colored.  The 
antlers  curve  out  and  forward,  the  prongs  branch- 
ing from  the  posterior  surface. 

The  Rocky  Mountain  blacktail  or  mule-deer 
is  somewhat  larger,  with  large  ears,  its  tail  short- 
haired  and  round,  white  excepting  for  a  black  tip, 
and  with  antlers  which  fork  evenly  like  the  prongs 


io     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

of  a  pitchfork,  —  so  that  it  is  difficult  to  say 
which  prong  should  be  considered  the  main 
shaft,  —  and  each  prong  itself  bifurcates  again. 
In  the  books  this  animal  is  called  the  mule-deer, 
but  throughout  its  haunts  it  is  almost  always 
known  simply  as  the  blacktail.  It  is  found  in 
rough,  broken  country  from  the  Bad  Lands  of 
the  western  Dakotas  to  the  Pacific  coast,  and  is 
everywhere  the  characteristic  deer  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  The  southern  California  form  is 
peculiar,  especially  in  having  a  dark  stripe  on 
the  tail  above. 

The  true  blacktail  is  found  on  the  Pacific  coast 
from  southern  Alaska  to  northern  California.  Its 
horns  are  like  those  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  black- 
tail  ;  its  tail  is  more  like  that  of  the  whitetail,  but 
is  not  as  large,  and  the  white  is  much  reduced, 
the  color  above  and  on  the  sides,  to  the  very  tip, 
being  nearly  black. 

The  so-called  antelope  is  not  an  antelope  at  all, 
but  a  very  extraordinary  creature.  It  is  the  only 
hollow-horned  ruminant  which  annually  sheds  its 
horns  as  do  the  deer.  Its  position  in  its  class  is 
as  unique  as  that  of  the  giraffe.  It  is  sometimes 
called  the  prongbuck,  but  antelope  is  the  name 
nearly  universally  used  for  it  throughout  its  range. 
It  extends  from  Canada  to  Mexico,  through  the 
great  plains  and  the  open  plateaus  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains ;  it  was  formerly  found  from  the  lower 


Introductory  1 1 

Missouri  and  the  Red  River  of  the  North  to  the 
Pacific  coast  in  California ;  but  it  has  been  exter- 
minated from  the  eastern  and  western  borders  of 
its  former  range,  and  very  much  thinned  out 
everywhere. 

In  the  game  preserves  and  zoological  gardens 
east  of  the  Mississippi  it  has  proved  feasible  to 
perpetuate  the  whitetail  and  the  wapiti,  which 
lend  themselves  readily  to  this  semi-domestica- 
tion. With  mule-deer,  caribou,  moose,  and  prong- 
buck  the  task  has  been  far  more  difficult,  owing 
probably  to  the  difficulty  caused  by  an  entire 
change  of  surroundings.  Seemingly,  however, 
the  effort  to  keep  moose  on  preserves  in  the  Ad- 
irondacks  and  New  Hampshire  has  been  success- 
ful. There  would  be  a  far  better  chance  to  keep 
mule-deer  and  prongbuck  permanently  in  captiv- 
ity if  the  effort  were  made  in  their  natural  habitat. 

The  chase  of  all  these  noble  and  beautiful  an- 
imals has  ever  possessed  a  peculiar  fascination 
for  bold  and  hardy  men,  skilled  in  the  use  of  arms 
and  the  management  of  the  horse,  and  wonted  to 
feats  of  strength  and  endurance.  Throughout 
the  pioneer  times  the  settlers  followed  hunting 
as  an  industry  as  much  as  a  sport,  and  to  this  day 
there  are  regions  in  the  Rockies  and  even  on  the 
great  plains  where  the  ranchmen  still  so  follow 
it.  Ordinarily  the  hunter  goes  on  foot  with  the 
rifle,  but  where  the  country  is  open,  as  through- 


12     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

out  much  of  the  West,  there  are  still  places  where 
he  habitually  rides ;  and  on  the  plains  this  is 
the  universal  habit.  Moreover,  the  antelope  is 
occasionally  followed  with  greyhounds,  and  the 
whitetail  deer  with  the  ordinary  track-hounds  or 
deer-hounds.  American  hunters  have  never  been 
partial  to  large-bore  rifles,  and  against  American 
game  the  heavy  batteries  necessary  in  India  and 
Africa  have  never  been  found  necessary,  or  in- 
deed useful.  Nowadays  the  small-bore,  smokeless- 
powder  rifle  is  almost  universally  used  for  all  the 
different  kinds  of  game  described  in  this  volume. 
For  deer  and  antelope  the  lighter  rifles  are  amply 
sufficient.  For  moose  and  wapiti  the  heavier  kinds 
are  preferable — not  larger  bores,  but  with  a  greater 
quantity  of  powder  and  a  longer  bullet.  The  hard, 
metal  jacket  of  the  bullet  should  of  course  not 
extend  to  the  point ;  in  other  words,  the  nose 
should  be  of  naked  lead.  Any  good,  modern  rifle 
will  meet  the  requirements.  The  particular  make 
is  largely  a  matter  of  personal  taste.  There  are 
a  dozen  different  kinds,  each  of  which  comes  up 
to  the  standard  of  accuracy,  flatness  of  trajectory, 
killing  power,  handiness,  and  endurance.  The 
vital  point  is  not  the  gun  but  the  man  behind  the 
gun.  Any  one  of  these  rifles  is  good  enough,  and 
the  difference  between  any  two  of  them  is  infini- 
tesimal when  compared  with  the  importance  of  a 
good  eye  and  a  steady  hand  and  nerves. 


Introductory  13 

The  matter  of  clothes  is  almost  as  much  one  of 
personal  taste  as  is  the  choice  of  a  rifle.  The  es- 
sential thing  is  that  they  should  be  of  some  kind 
of  drab  or  neutral  tint  tending  toward  gray  or 
brown.  Personally,  after  many  years'  experience, 
I  regard  a  buckskin  shirt,  when  properly  tanned, 
as  the  best  possible  outside  garment  for  any  but 
very  rainy  weather.  Of  course  when  the  ther- 
mometer gets  down  toward  zero,  a  warm,  heavy 
jacket  will  be  needed  if  one  is  on  horseback. 
The  buckskin  shirt  should  be  worn  as  a  tunic, 
belted  in  at  the  waist.  The  hat  should  be  soft, 
with  not  too  wide  a  brim.  The  trousers  should 
be  loose  and  free  to  below  the  knee,  and  from 
there  to  the  ankle  should  button  tightly  down  the 
leg ;  the  alternative  being  to  use  over  them  leather 
leggings  which  should  have  straps  and  buckles  and 
not  buttons.  Not  only  the  soles  and  heels  of  the 
shoes  but  under  the  insteps  should  be  studded 
with  nails. 

To  describe  the  necessary  equipment  is  hardly 
worth  while,  because  it  differs  so  widely  in  differ- 
ent kinds  of  shooting.  If  a  man  lives  on  a  ranch, 
or  is  passing  some  weeks  in  a  lodge  in  a  game 
country,  and  starts  out  for  two  or  three  days,  he 
will  often  do  well  to  cany  nothing  whatever  but 
a  blanket,  a  frying-pan,  some  salt  pork,  and  some 
hardtack.  If  the  hunting-ground  is  such  that  he 
can  use  a  wagon  or  a  canoe,  and  the  trip  is  not 


14     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

to  be  too  long,  he  can  carry  about  anything  he 
chooses,  including  a  tent,  any  amount  of  bedding, 
and  if  it  is  very  cold,  a  small,  portable  stove,  not 
to  speak  of  elaborate  cooking  apparatus.  If  he 
goes  with  a  pack-train,  he  will  also  be  able  to 
carry  a  good  deal ;  but  in  such  a  case  he  must 
rely  on  the  judgment  of  the  trained  packers,  un- 
less he  is  himself  an  expert  in  the  diamond  hitch. 
If  it  becomes  necessary  to  go  on  foot  for  any 
length  of  time,  he  must  be  prepared  to  do  genuine 
roughing,  and  must  get  along  with  the  minimum 
of  absolute  necessities. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  point  out  that  the 
hunter  worthy  of  the  name  should  be  prepared 
to  shift  for  himself  in  emergencies.  A  ranch- 
man, or  any  other  man  whose  business  takes  him 
much  in  the  mountains  and  out  on  the  great 
plains  or  among  the  forests,  ought  to  be  able 
to  get  along  entirely  on  his  own  account.  But 
this  cannot  usually  be  done  by  those  whose  ex- 
istence is  habitually  more  artificial.  When  a  man 
who  normally  lives  a  rather  over-civilized  life, 
an  over-luxurious  life,  —  especially  in  the  great 
cities  —  gets  off  for  a  few  weeks'  hunting,  he  can- 
not expect  to  accomplish  much  in  the  way  of 
getting  game  without  calling  upon  the  services 
of  a  trained  guide,  woodsman,  plainsman,  or  moun- 
tain man,  whose  life-work  it  has  been  to  make  him- 
self an  adept  in  all  the  craft  of  the  wilderness. 


Introductory  1 5 

Until  a  man,  unused  to  wilderness  life,  even  though 
a  good  sportsman,  has  actually  tried  it,  he  has  no 
idea  of  the  difficulties  and  hardships  of  shifting 
absolutely  for  himself,  even  for  only  two  or  three 
days.  Not  only  will  the  local  guide  have  the  neces- 
sary knowledge  as  to  precisely  which  one  of  two 
seemingly  similar  places  is  most  apt  to  contain 
game ;  not  only  will  he  possess  the  skill  in  pack- 
ing horses,  or  handling  a  canoe  in  rough  water, 
or  finding  his  way  through  the  wilderness,  which 
the  amateur  must  lack ;  but  even  the  things  which 
the  amateur  does,  the  professional  will  do  so  much 
more  easily  and  rapidly,  as  in  the  one  case  to  leave, 
and  in  the  other  case  not  to  leave,  ample  time  for 
the  hunting  proper.  Therefore  the  ordinary  ama- 
teur sportsman,  especially  if  he  lives  in  a  city,  must 
count  upon  the  services  of  trained  men,  possibly 
to  help  him  in  hunting,  certainly  to  help  him  in 
travelling,  cooking,  pitching  camp,  and  the  like ; 
and  this  he  must  do,  if  he  expects  to  get  good 
sport,  no  matter  how  hardy  he  may  be,  and  no 
matter  how  just  may  be  the  pride  he  ought  to  take 
in  his  own  craft,  skill,  and  capacity  to  undergo 
fatigue  and  exposure.  But  while  normally  he 
must  take  advantage  of  the  powers  of  others,  he 
should  certainly  make  a  point  of  being  able  to 
shift  for  himself  whenever  the  need  arises;  and 
he  can  only  be  sure  of  possessing  this  capacity  by 
occasionally  exercising  it.    It  ought  to  be  unneces- 


1 6     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

sary  to  point  out  that  the  wilderness  is  not  a 
place  for  those  who  are  dependent  upon  luxuries, 
and  above  all  for  those  who  make  a  camping  trip 
an  excuse  for  debauchery.  Neither  the  man  who 
wants  to  take  a  French  cook  and  champagne 
on  a  hunting  trip,  nor  his  equally  objectionable 
though  less  wealthy  brother  who  is  chiefly  con- 
cerned with  filling  and  emptying  a  large  whiskey 
jug,  has  any  place  whatever  in  the  real  life  of  the 
wilderness. 

The  most  striking  and  melancholy  feature  in 
connection  with  American  big  game  is  the  rapidity 
with  which  it  has  vanished.  When,  just  before 
the  outbreak  of  the  Revolutionary  War,  the  rifle- 
bearing  hunters  of  the  backwoods  first  penetrated 
the  great  forests  west  of  the  Alleghanies,  deer,  elk, 
black  bear,  and  even  buffalo  swarmed  in  what  are 
now  the  states  of  Kentucky  and  Tennessee ;  and 
the  country  north  of  the  Ohio  was  a  great  and 
almost  virgin  hunting-ground.  From  that  day  to 
this  the  shrinkage  has  gone  on,  only  partially 
checked  here  and  there,  and  never  arrested  as  a 
whole.  As  a  matter  of  historical  accuracy,  how- 
ever, it  is  well  to  bear  in  mind  that  a  great  many 
writers  in  lamenting  this  extinction  of  the  game 
have,  from  time  to  time,  anticipated  or  overstated 
the  facts.  Thus  as  good  an  author  as  Colonel  Rich- 
ard Irving  Dodge  spoke  of  the  buffalo  as  practi- 
cally extinct,  while  the  great  northern  herd  still 


Introductory  17 

existed  in  countless  thousands.  As  early  as  1880 
very  good  sporting  authorities  spoke  not  only  of 
the  buffalo  but  of  the  elk,  deer,  and  antelope  as  no 
longer  to  be  found  in  plenty ;  and  within  a  year 
one  of  the  greatest  of  living  hunters  has  stated 
that  it  is  no  longer  possible  to  find  any  American 
wapiti  bearing  heads  comparable  with  the  red  deer 
of  Hungary.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  in  the  early 
eighties  there  were  still  great  regions  where  every 
species  of  game  that  had  ever  been  known  within 
historic  times  on  our  continent  were  still  to  be 
found  as  plentifully  as  ever.  In  the  early  nineties 
there  were  still  large  regions  in  which  this  was 
true  of  all  game  except  the  buffalo ;  for  instance, 
it  was  true  of  the  elk  in  portions  of  northwestern 
Wyoming,  of  the  blacktail  in  northwestern  Colo- 
rado, of  the  whitetail  here  and  there  in  the  Indian 
Territoiy,  and  of  the  antelope  in  parts  of  New  Mex- 
ico. Even  at  the  present  day  there  are  smaller, 
but  still  considerable  regions  where  these  four 
animals  are  yet  found  in  great  abundance,  and  I 
have  seen  antlers  of  wapiti  shot  in  1900  far  sur- 
passing any  of  which  there  is  record  from  Hun- 
gary. In  New  England  and  New  York,  as  well 
as  New  Brunswick  and  Nova  Scotia,  the  whitetail 
deer  is  more  plentiful  than  it  was  thirty  years 
ago,  and  in  Maine  (and  to  an  even  greater  extent 
in  New  Brunswick)  the  moose  and  caribou  have, 
on  the  whole,  increased  during  the  same  period. 


1 8     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

There  is  yet  ample  opportunity  for  the  big  game 
hunter  in  the  United  States  and  Canada;  while 
not  even  in  the  old  days  was  it  possible  to  go  on 
any  trip  better  worth  taking  than  the  recent  suc- 
cessful hunt  of  Mr.  Dall  DeWeese,  of  Canon  City, 
Colorado,  after  the  giant  moose,  giant  bear,  white 
sheep,  and  caribou  of  Alaska. 

While  it  is  necessary  to  give  this  word  of  warn- 
ing to  those  who,  in  praising  time  past,  always 
forget  the  opportunities  of  the  present,  it  is  a 
thousand  fold  more  necessary  to  remember  that 
these  opportunities  are,  nevertheless,  vanishing; 
and  if  we  are  a  sensible  people,  we  will  make  it 
our  business  to  see  that  the  process  of  extinction 
is  arrested.  At  the  present  moment  the  great 
herds  of  caribou  are  being  butchered  as  in  the 
past  the  great  herds  of  bison  and  wapiti  have 
been  butchered.  Every  believer  in  manliness, 
and  therefore  in  manly  sport,  and  every  lover  of 
nature,  every  man  who  appreciates  the  majesty 
and  beauty  of  the  wilderness  and  of  wild  life, 
should  strike  hands  with  the  far-sighted  men  who 
wish  to  preserve  our  material  resources,  in  the 
effort  to  keep  our  forests  and  our  game  beasts, 
game  birds,  and  game  fish  —  indeed  all  the  living 
creatures  of  prairie,  and  woodland,  and  seashore 
—  from  wanton  destruction. 

Above  all,  we  should  realize  that  the  effort 
toward  this  end  is  essentially  a  democratic  move- 


Introductory  1 9 

ment.  It  is  entirely  in  our  power  as  a  nation  to 
preserve  large  tracts  of  wilderness,  which  are  val- 
ueless for  agricultural  purposes,  as  play-grounds 
for  rich  and  poor  alike,  and  to  preserve  the  game 
so  that  it  shall  continue  to  exist  for  the  benefit  of 
all  lovers  of  nature,  and  to  give  reasonable  oppor- 
tunities for  the  exercise  of  the  skill  of  the  hunter, 
whether  he  is  or  is  not  a  man  of  means.  But  this 
end  can  only  be  achieved  by  wise  laws  and  by  a  reso- 
lute enforcement  of  the  laws.  Lack  of  such  legis- 
lation and  administration  will  result  in  harm  to 
all  of  us,  but  most  of  all  in  harm  to  the  nature 
lover  who  does  not  possess  vast  wealth.  Already 
there  have  sprung  up  here  and  there  through  the 
country,  as  in  New  Hampshire  and  the  Adiron- 
dacks,  large  private  preserves.  These  preserves 
often  serve  a  most  useful  purpose,  and  should  be 
encouraged  within  reasonable  limits ;  but  it  would 
be  a  great  misfortune  if  they  increased  beyond  a 
certain  extent,  or  if  they  took  the  place  of  great 
tracts  of  wild  land,  which  continue  as  such,  either 
because  of  their  very  nature,  or  because  of  the 
protection  of  the  state  exerted  in  the  form  of 
making  them  state  or  national  parks  or  reserves. 
It  is  utterly  foolish  to  regard  proper  game  laws 
as  undemocratic,  unrepublican.  On  the  contrary, 
they  are  essentially  in  the  interests  of  the  people 
as  a  whole,  because  it  is  only  through  their  enact- 
ment and  enforcement  that  the  people  as  a  whole 


10     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

can  preserve  the  game  and  can  prevent  its  be- 
coming purely  the  property  of  the  rich,  who  are 
able  to  create  and  maintain  extensive  private  pre- 
serves. The  very  wealthy  man  can  get  hunting 
anyhow,  but  the  man  of  small  means  is  depen- 
dent solely  upon  wise  and  well-executed  game 
laws  for  his  enjoyment  of  the  sturdy  pleasure  of 
the  chase.  In  Maine,  in  Vermont,  in  the  Adiron- 
dack^, even  in  parts  of  Massachusetts  and  on  Long 
Island  too,  people  have  waked  up  to  this  fact, 
particularly  so  far  as  the  common  whitetail  deer 
is  concerned,  and  in  Maine  also  as  regards  the 
moose  and  caribou.  The  effect  is  shown  in  the 
increase  in  all  these  animals.  Such  game  protec- 
tion results,  in  the  first  place,  in  securing  to  the 
people  who  live  in  the  neighborhood  permanent 
opportunities  for  hunting;  and  in  the  next  place, 
it  provides  no  small  source  of  wealth  to  the  local- 
ity because  of  the  visitors  which  it  attracts.  A 
deer  wild  in  the  woods  is  worth  to  the  people  of 
the  neighborhood  many  times  the  value  of  its 
carcass,  because  of  the  way  it  attracts  sportsmen, 
who  give  employment  and  leave  money  behind 
them. 

True  sportsmen,  worthy  of  the  name,  men  who 
shoot  only  in  season  and  in  moderation,  do  no 
harm  whatever  to  game.  The  most  objection- 
able of  all  game  destroyers  is,  of  course,  the  kind 
of  game  butcher  who  simply  kills  for   the   sake 


Introductory  21 

of  the  record  of  slaughter,  who  leaves  deer  and 
ducks  and  prairie-chicken  to  rot  after  he  has 
slain  them.  Such  a  man  is  wholly  obnoxious; 
and  indeed,  so  is  any  man  who  shoots  for  the 
purpose  of  establishing  a  record  of  the  amount 
of  game  killed.  To  my  mind  this  is  one  very 
unfortunate  feature  of  what  is  otherwise  the 
admirably  sportsmanlike  English  spirit  in  these 
matters.  The  custom  of  shooting  great  bags  of 
deer,  grouse,  partridges,  and  pheasants,  the  keen 
rivalry  in  making  such  bags,  and  their  publica- 
tion in  sporting  journals,  are  symptoms  of  a  spirit 
which  is  most  unhealthy  from  every  standpoint. 
It  is  to  be  earnestly  hoped  that  every  American 
hunting  or  fishing  club  will  strive  to  inculcate 
among  its  own  members,  and  in  the  minds  of  the 
general  public,  that  anything  like  an  excessive 
bag,  any  destruction  for  the  sake  of  making  a 
record,  is  to  be  severely  reprobated. 

But  after  all,  this  kind  of  perverted  sportsman, 
unworthy  though  he  is,  is  not  the  chief  factor 
in  the  destruction  of  our  game.  The  professional 
skin  or  market  hunter,  is  the  real  offender.  Yet 
he  is  of  all  others  the  man  who  would  ultimately 
be  most  benefited  by  the  preservation  of  the 
game.  The  frontier  settler,  in  a  thoroughly  wild 
country,  is  certain  to  kill  game  for  his  own  use. 
As  long  as  he  does  no  more  than  this,  it  is  hard 
to   blame    him;  although   if  he  is  awake  to  his 


22     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

own  interests  he  will  soon  realize  that  to  him,  too, 
the  live  deer  is  worth  far  more  than  the  dead 
deer,  because  of  the  way  in  which  it  brings 
money  into  the  wilderness.  The  professional 
hunter  who  kills  game  for  the  hide,  or  for  the 
meat,  or  to  sell  antlers  and  other  trophies,  and 
the  rich  people,  who  are  content  to  buy  what 
they  have  not  the  skill  to  get  by  their  own  exer- 
tions —  these  are  the  men  who  are  the  real  enemies 
of  game.  Where  there  is  no  law  which  checks 
the  market  hunters,  the  inevitable  result  of  their 
butchery  is  that  the  game  is  completely  destroyed, 
and  with  it  their  own  means  of  livelihood.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  they  were  willing  to  preserve  it, 
they  could  make  much  more  money  by  acting  as 
guides.  In  northwestern  Colorado,  at  the  present 
moment,  there  are  still  blacktail  deer  in  abun- 
dance, and  some  hundreds  of  elk  are  left.  Colo- 
rado has  fairly  good  game  laws,  but  they  are 
indifferently  enforced.  The  country  in  which 
the  game  is  found  can  probably  never  support 
any  but  a  very  sparse  population,  and  a  large 
portion  of  the  summer  range  is  practically  use- 
less for  settlement.  If  the  people  of  Colorado 
generally,  and  above  all  the  people  of  the  counties 
in  which  the  game  is  located,  would  resolutely  co- 
operate with  those  of  their  own  number  who  are 
already  alive  to  the  importance  of  preserving  the 
game,  it  could,  without  difficulty,  be  kept  always 


Introductory  23 

as  abundant  as  it  now  is,  and  this  beautiful  region 
would  be  a  permanent  health  resort  and  play- 
ground for  the  people  of  a  large  part  of  the 
Union.  Such  action  would  be  a  benefit  to  every 
one,  but  it  would  be  a  benefit  most  of  all  to  the 
people  of  the  immediate  locality. 

In  northwestern  Wyoming  the  preservation  of 
the  Yellowstone  Park  by  the  Federal  government 
has  done  inestimable  good.  It  preserves  the 
great  nursery  and  breeding-ground  of  the  elk. 
The  reserve  should,  however,  be  extended  so  as 
to  include  more  of  the  elk's  winter  range. 

It  is  to  be  remembered  that  the  preservation  of 
the  game  is  by  no  means  merely  the  affair  of  the 
sportsman.  Most  of  us,  as  we  grow  older,  grow  to 
care  relatively  less  for  the  sport  itself  than  for  the 
splendid  freedom  and  abounding  health  of  outdoor 
life  in  the  woods,  on  the  plains,  and  among  the 
great  mountains;  and  to  the  true  nature  lover  it 
is  melancholy  to  see  the  wilderness  stripped  of 
the  wild  creatures  which  gave  it  no  small  part  of 
its  peculiar  charm.  It  is  inevitable,  and  probably 
necessary,  that  the  wolf  and  the  cougar  should 
go ;  but  the  blacktail  and  wapiti  grouped  on  the 
mountain  side,  the  whitetail  and  moose  feeding  in 
the  sedgy  ponds,  —  these  add  beyond  measure  to 
the  wilderness  landscape,  and  if  they  are  taken 
away,  they  leave  a  lack  which  nothing  else  can 
quite  make  good.     So  it  is  of  those  true  birds  of 


24     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

the  wilderness,  the  eagle  and  the  raven ;  and 
indeed  of  all  the  wild  things  furred,  feathered,  and 
finned. 

There  are  many  sides  to  the  charm  of  big 
game  hunting ;  nor  should  it  be  regarded  as 
being  without  its  solid  advantages  from  the  stand- 
point of  national  character.  Always  in  our  mod- 
ern life,  the  life  of  a  highly  complex  industrialism, 
there  is  a  tendency  to  softening  of  the  fibre.  This 
is  true  of  our  enjoyments;  and  it  is  no  less  true  of 
very  many  of  our  business  occupations.  It  is  not 
true  of  such  work  as  railroading,  a  purely  modern 
development,  nor  yet  of  work  like  that  of  those 
who  man  the  fishing  fleets ;  but  it  is  preeminently 
true  of  all  occupations  which  cause  men  to  lead 
sedentary  lives  in  great  cities.  For  these  men  it 
is  especially  necessary  to  provide  hard  and  rough 
play.  Of  course,  if  such  play  is  made  a  serious 
business,  the  result  is  very  bad ;  but  this  does  not 
in  the  least  affect  the  fact  that  within  proper 
limits  the  play  itself  is  good.  Vigorous  athletic 
sports  carried  on  in  a  sane  spirit  are  healthy.  The 
hardy  out-of-door  sports  of  the  wilderness  are  even 
healthier.  It  is  a  mere  truism  to  say  that  the 
qualities  developed  by  the  hunter  are  the  qualities 
needed  by  the  soldier;  and  a  curious  feature  of 
the  changed  conditions  of  modern  warfare  is  that 
they  call  to  a  much  greater  extent  than  during 
the  two  or  three  centuries  immediately  past,  for 


Introductory  25 

the  very  qualities  of  individual  initiative,  ability  to 
live  and  work  in  the  open,  and  personal  skill  in 
the  management  of  horse  and  weapons,  which  are 
fostered  by  a  hunter's  life.  No  training  in  the 
barracks  or  on  the  parade-ground  is  as  good  as 
the  training  given  by  a  hard  hunting  trip  in  which 
a  man  really  does  the  work  for  himself,  learns  to 
face  emergencies,  to  study  country,  to  perform 
feats  of  hardihood,  to  face  exposure  and  undergo 
severe  labor.  It  is  an  excellent  thing  for  any  man 
to  be  a  good  horseman  and  a  good  marksman,  to 
be  able  to  live  in  the  open  and  to  feel  a  self-reli- 
ant readiness  in  any  crisis.  Big  game  hunting 
tends  to  produce  or  develop  exactly  these  physi- 
cal and  moral  traits.  To  say  that  it  may  be 
pursued  in  a  manner  or  to  an  extent  which  is 
demoralizing  is  but  to  say  what  can  likewise  be 
said  of  all  other  pastimes  and  of  almost  all  kinds  of 
serious  business.  That  it  can  be  abused  either  in 
the  way  in  which  it  is  done,  or  the  extent  to  which 
it  is  carried,  does  not  alter  the  fact  that  it  is  in 
itself  a  sane  and  healthy  recreation. 

At  the  risk  of  over-emphasis,  I  desire  to  repeat 
that  we  cannot  too  sedulously  insist  upon  the  fact 
that  the  big  game  hunter  should  not  be  a  game 
butcher.  To  protest  against  all  hunting  is,  of 
course,  merely  a  bit  of  unhealthy  sentimentality. 
If  no  wild  animals  were  killed  by  man  for  food 
or  sport,  he  would  speedily  have  to  kill  them  in 


26     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

self-defence  because  they  would  eat  him  out  of 
house  and  home.  But  the  true  sportsman  is 
never  wanton  in  slaughter.  If  he  is  worthy  the 
name,  he  will  feel  infinitely  more  satisfaction  in 
a  single  successful  shot  which  comes  to  crown 
the  triumph  of  his  hardihood  and  address  in  ex- 
ploring the  wilds,  and  in  the  actual  stalk,  than 
he  would  in  any  amount  of  shooting  at  creatures 
driven  past  him  from  artificially  stocked  covers. 
The  best  test  of  the  worth  of  any  sport  is  the 
demand  that  sport  makes  upon  those  qualities 
of  mind  and  body  which  in  their  sum  we  call 
manliness. 

Moreover,  in  addition  to  being  a  true  sports- 
man and  not  a  game  butcher,  in  addition  to  being 
a  humane  man  as  well  as  keen-eyed,  strong-limbed, 
and  stout-hearted,  the  big  game  hunter  should 
be  a  field  naturalist.  If  possible,  he  should  be  an 
adept  with  the  camera ;  and  hunting  with  the 
camera  will  tax  his  skill  far  more  than  hunting 
with  the  rifle,  while  the  results  in  the  long  run 
give  much  greater  satisfaction.  Wherever  possible 
he  should  keep  a  note-book,  and  should  carefully 
study  and  record  the  habits  of  the  wild  creatures, 
especially  when  in  some  remote  regions  to  which 
trained  scientific  observers  but  rarely  have  access. 
If  we  could  only  produce  a  hunter  who  would  do 
for  American  big  game  what  John  Burroughs  has 
done  for  the  smaller  wild  life  of  hedgerow  and 


Introductory  27 

orchard,  farm  and  garden  and  grove,  we  should 
indeed  be  fortunate.  Yet  even  though  a  man  does 
not  possess  the  literary  faculty  and  the  powers  of 
trained  observation  necessary  for  such  a  task,  he 
can  do  his  part  toward  adding  to  our  information 
by  keeping  careful  notes  of  all  the  important  facts 
which  he  comes  across.  Such  note-books  would 
show  the  changed  habits  of  game  with  the  changed 
seasons,  their  abundance  at  different  times  and 
different  places,  the  melancholy  data  of  their  dis- 
appearance, the  pleasanter  facts  as  to  their  change 
of  habits  which  enable  them  to  continue  to  exist 
in  the  land,  and,  in  short,  all  their  traits.  A  real 
and  lasting  service  would  thereby  be  rendered, 
not  only  to  naturalists,  but  to  all  who  care  for 
nature. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE  MULE-DEER,  OR  ROCKY  MOUNTAIN   BLACKTAIL 

This  is  the  largest  and  finest  of  our  three 
smaller  deer.  Throughout  its  range  it  is  known 
as  the  blacktail  deer,  and  it  has  as  good  a  historic 
claim  to  the  title  as  its  Pacific  coast  kinsman,  the 
coast  or  true  blacktail.  If  one  were  writing  purely 
of  this  species,  it  would  be  pedantry  to  call  it  by 
its  book  name  of  mule-deer,  a  name  which  con- 
veys little  or  no  meaning  to  the  people  who  live 
in  its  haunts  and  who  hunt  it ;  but  it  is  certainly 
very  confusing  to  know  two  distinct  types  of  deer 
by  one  name,  and  as  both  the  Rocky  Mountain 
blacktail  and  Coast  blacktail  are  treated  in  this 
volume,  and  as  the  former  is  occasionally  known 
as  mule-deer,  I  shall,  for  convenience'  sake,  speak 
of  it  under  this  name,  —  a  name  given  it  because 
of  its  great  ears,  which  rather  detract  from  its 
otherwise  very  handsome  appearance. 

The  mule-deer  is  a  striking  and  beautiful  ani- 
mal. As  is  the  case  with  our  other  species,  it 
varies  greatly  in  size,  but  is  on  the  average  heavier 
than  either  the  whitetail  or  the  true  blacktail.    The 

28 


The  Mule- deer  29 

horns  also  average  longer  and  heavier,  and  in 
exceptional  heads  are  really  noteworthy  trophies. 
Ordinarily  a  full-grown  buck  has  a  head  of  ten 
distinct  and  well-developed  points,  eight  of  which 
consist  of  the  bifurcations  of  the  two  main  prongs 
into  which  each  antler  divides,  while  in  addition 
there  are  two  shorter  basal  or  frontal  points.  But 
the  latter  are  very  irregular,  being  sometimes 
missing ;  while  sometimes  there  are  two  or  three 
of  them  on  each  antler.  When  missing  it  usually 
means  that  the  antlers  are  of  young  animals  that 
have  not  attained  their  full  growth.  A  yearling 
will  sometimes  have  merely  a  pair  of  spikes,  and 
sometimes  each  spike  will  be  bifurcated  so  as  to 
make  two  points.  A  two-year-old  may  develop 
antlers  which,  though  small,  possess  the  normal 
four  points.  Occasionally,  where  unusually  big 
heads  are  developed,  there  are  a  number  of  extra 
points.  If  these  are  due  to  deformity,  they  simply 
take  away  from  the  beauty  of  the  head ;  but  where 
they  are  symmetrical,  while  at  the  same  time  the 
antlers  are  massive,  they  add  greatly  to  the  beauty. 
All  the  handsomest  and  largest  heads  show  this 
symmetrical  development  of  extra  points.  It  is 
rather  hard  to  lay  down  a  hard-and-fast  rule  for 
counting  them.  The  largest  and  finest  antlers 
are  usually  rough,  and  it  is  not  easy  to  say  when 
a  particular  point  in  roughness  has  developed  so 
that  it  may  legitimately  be  called  a  prong.     The 


30     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

largest  head  I  ever  got  to  my  own  rifle  had  twenty- 
eight  points,  symmetrically  arranged,  the  antlers 
being  rough  and  very  massive  as  well  as  very  long. 
The  buck  was  an  immense  fellow,  but  no  bigger 
than  other  bucks  I  have  shot  which  possessed 
ordinary  heads. 

The  mule-deer  is  found  from  the  rough  country 
which  begins  along  the  eastern  edges  of  the  great 
plains,  across  the  Rocky  Mountains  to  the  eastern 
slopes  of  the  coast  ranges,  and  into  southern  Cali- 
fornia. It  extends  into  Canada  on  the  north  and 
Mexico  on  the  south.  On  the  west  it  touches, 
and  here  and  there  crosses,  the  boundaries  of  the 
Coast  blacktail.  The  whitetail  is  found  in  places 
throughout  its  habitat  from  east  to  west  and  from 
north  to  south.  But  there  are  great  regions  in 
this  territory  which  are  peculiarly  fitted  for  the 
mule-deer,  but  in  which  the  whitetail  is  never 
found,  as  the  habits  of  the  two  are  entirely  dif- 
ferent. In  the  mountains  of  western  Colorado 
and  Wyoming,  for  instance,  the  mule-deer  swarms, 
but  the  whole  region  is  unfit  for  the  whitetail, 
which  is  accordingly  only  found  in  a  very  few 
narrowly  restricted  localities. 

The  mule-deer  does  not  hold  its  own  as  well  as 
the  whitetail  in  the  presence  of  man,  but  it  is  by 
no  means  as  quickly  exterminated  as  the  wapiti. 
The  general  limits  of  its  range  have  not  shrunk 
materially  in    the  century  during  which    it    has 


The  Mule- deer  31 

been  known  to  white  hunters.  It  was  never 
found  until  the  fertile,  moist  country  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi Valley  was  passed  and  the  dry  plains 
region  to  the  west  of  it  reached,  and  it  still 
exists  in  some  numbers  here  and  there  in  this 
country,  as,  for  instance,  in  the  Bad  Lands  along 
the  Little  Missouri,  and  in  the  Black  Hills.  But 
although  its  limits  of  distribution  have  not  very 
sensibly  diminished,  there  are  large  portions  of 
the  range  within  these  limits  from  which  it  has 
practically  vanished,  and  in  most  places  its  num- 
bers have  been  wofully  thinned.  It  holds  its 
own  best  among  the  more  inaccessible  mountain 
masses  of  the  Rockies,  and  from  Chihuahua  to 
Alberta  there  are  tracts  where  it  is  still  very 
abundant.  Yet  even  in  these  places  the  numbers 
are  diminishing,  and  this  process  can  be  arrested 
only  by  better  laws,  and  above  all,  by  a  better 
administration  of  the  law.  The  national  govern- 
ment could  do  much  by  establishing  its  forest 
reserves  as  game  reserves,  and  putting  on  a  suffi- 
cient number  of  forest  rangers  who  should  be 
empowered  to  prevent  all  hunting  on  the  reserves. 
The  state  governments  can  do  still  more.  Colo- 
rado has  good  laws,  but  they  are  not  well  enforced. 
The  easy  method  of  accounting  for  this  fact  is  to 
say  that  it  is  due  to  the  politicians ;  but  in  reality 
the  politicians  merely  represent  the  wishes,  or 
more  commonly  the  indifference,  of  the  people. 


32     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

As  long  as  the  good  citizens  of  a  state  are  indif- 
ferent as  to  game  protection,  or  take  but  a  tepid 
interest  in  it,  the  politicians,  through  their  agents, 
will  leave  the  game  laws  unenforced.  But  if  the 
people  of  Colorado,  Wyoming,  and  Montana  come 
to  feel  the  genuine  interest  in  the  enforcement  of 
these  laws  that  the  people  of  Maine  and  Vermont 
have  grown  to  take  during  the  past  twenty  years, 
not  only  will  the  mule-deer  cease  to  diminish, 
but  it  will  positively  increase.  It  is  a  mistake 
to  suppose  that  such  a  change  would  only  be  to 
the  advantage  of  well-to-do  sportsmen.  Men  who 
are  interested  in  hunting  for  huntings  sake,  men 
who  come  from  the  great  cities  remote  from  the 
mountains  in  order  to  get  three  or  four  weeks' 
healthy,  manly  holiday,  would  undoubtedly  be 
benefited ;  but  the  greatest  benefit  would  be  to 
the  people  of  the  localities,  and  of  the  neighbor- 
hoods round  about.  The  presence  of  the  game 
would  attract  outsiders  who  would  leave  in  the 
country  money  or  its  equivalent,  which  would 
many  times  surpass  in  value  the  game  they 
actually  killed ;  and  furthermore,  the  preservation 
of  the  game  would  mean  that  the  ranchmen  and 
grangers  who  live  near  its  haunts  would  have 
in  perpetuity  the  chance  of  following  the  pleas- 
antest  and  healthiest  of  all  out-of-door  pastimes ; 
whereas,  if  through  their  shortsightedness  they 
destroy,  or  permit  to  be  destroyed,  the  game,  they 


I  RANQE  OF  MULE  DEER 

(OOOCOILEOS  HEMiONUB  f.HD  8UB5PEC 
WM  RANGE  OF  CATON'8  CALIFORNIA  MULE 
~~f~fOOO.COn.lM  CALIF0RNI0U8) 
/  .       '  ByDrr-CVIUrl  Merri: 
115*  '  no< 


The  Mule-deer  33 

are  themselves  responsible  for  the  fact  that  their 
children  and  children's  children  find  themselves 
forever  debarred  from  a  pursuit  which  must  under 
such  circumstances  become  the  amusement  only 
of  the  very  rich.  If  we  are  really  alive  to  our 
opportunities  under  our  democratic,  social,  and 
political  system,  we  can  keep  for  ourselves  —  and 
by  "  ourselves  "  I  mean  the  enormous  bulk  of  men 
whose  means  range  from  moderate  to  very  small 
—  ample  opportunity  for  the  enjoyment  of  hunt- 
ing and  shooting,  of  vigorous  and  blood-stirring 
out-of-doors  sport.  If  we  fail  to  take  advantage 
of  our  possibilities,  if  we  fail  to  pass,  in  the 
interest  of  all,  wise  game  laws,  and  to  see  that 
these  game  laws  are  properly  enforced,  we  will 
then  have  to  thank  ourselves  if  in  the  future  the 
game  is  only  found  in  the  game  preserves  of  the 
wealthy ;  and  under  such  circumstances  only  these 
same  wealthy  people  will  have  the  chance  to 
hunt  it. 

The  mule-deer  differs  widely  from  the  whitetail 
in  its  habits,  and  especially  in  its  gait,  and  in  the 
kind  of  country  which  it  frequents.  Although  in 
many  parts  of  its  range  it  is  found  side  by  side 
with  its  whitetail  cousin,  the  two  do  not  actually 
associate  together,  and  their  propinquity  is  due 
simply  to  the  fact,  that  the  river  bottoms  being  a 
favorite  haunt  of  the  whitetail,  long  tongues  of  the 
distribution  area  of  this  species  are  thrust  into  the 


34     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

domain  of  its  bolder,  less  stealthy  and  less  crafty 
kinsman.  Throughout  the  plains  country  the 
whitetail  is  the  deer  of  the  river  bottoms,  where 
the  rank  growth  gives  it  secure  hiding-places,  as 
well  as  ample  food.  The  mule-deer,  on  the  con- 
trary, never  comes  down  into  the  dense  growths 
of  the  river  bottoms.  Throughout  the  plains  coun- 
try it  is  the  deer  of  the  broken  Bad  Lands  which 
fringe  these  river  bottoms  on  either  side,  and  of 
the  rough  ravines  which  wind  their  way  through 
the  Bad  Lands  to  the  edge  of  the  prairie  country 
which  lies  back  of  them.  The  broken  hills,  their 
gorges  filled  with  patches  of  ash,  buck  brush,  cedar, 
and  dwarf  pine,  form  a  country  in  which  the  mule- 
deer  revels.  The  whitetail  will,  at  times,  wander 
far  out  on  the  prairies  where  the  grass  is  tall  and 
rank ;  but  it  is  not  nearly  so  bold  or  fond  of  the 
open  as  the  mule-deer.  The  latter  is  frequently 
found  in  hilly  country  where  the  covering  is  so 
scanty  that  the  animal  must  be  perpetually  on  the 
watch,  as  if  it  were  a  bighorn  or  prongbuck,  in 
order  to  spy  its  foes  at  a  distance  and  escape  be- 
fore they  can  come  near ;  whereas  the  whitetail 
usually  seeks  to  elude  observation  by  hiding  — 
by  its  crouching,  stealthy  habits. 

It  must  be  remembered,  however,  that  with  the 
mule-deer,  as  with  all  other  species  of  animals, 
there  is  a  wide  variability  in  habits  under  differ- 
ent conditions.     This  is  often  forgotten  even  by 


The  Mule- deer  3$ 

trained  naturalists,  who  accept  the  observations 
made  in  one  locality  as  if  they  applied  throughout 
the  range  of  the  species.  Thus  in  the  excellent 
account  of  the  habits  of  this  species  in  Mr.  Ly- 
deker's  book  on  the  "  Deer  of  All  Lands "  it  is 
asserted  that  mule-deer  never  dwell  permanently 
in  the  forest,  and  feed  almost  exclusively  on  grass. 
The  first  statement  is  entirely,  and  the  second 
mainly,  true  of  the  mule-deer  of  the  plains  from 
the  Little  Missouri  westward  to  the  headwaters 
of  the  Platte,  the  Yellowstone,  and  the  Big  Horn; 
but  there  are  large  parts  of  the  Rockies  in  which 
neither  statement  applies  at  all.  In  the  course  of 
several  hunting  trips  among  the  densely  wooded 
mountains  of  western  Montana,  along  the  water- 
shed separating  the  streams  that  flow  into  Clarke's 
Fork  of  the  Columbia  from  those  that  ultimately 
empty  into  Kootenay  Lake,  I  found  the  mule- 
deer  plentiful  in  many  places  where  practically 
the  whole  country  was  covered  by  dense  for- 
est, and  where  the  opportunities  for  grazing  were 
small  indeed,  as  we  found  to  our  cost  in  connec- 
tion with  our  pack-train.  In  this  region  the  mule- 
deer  lived  the  entire  time  among  the  timber,  and 
subsisted  for  the  most  part  on  browse.  Occasion- 
ally they  would  find  an  open  glade  and  graze ; 
but  the  stomachs  of  those  killed  contained  not 
grass,  but  blueberries  and  the  leaves  and  delicate 
tips  of  bushes.     I  was  not  in  this  country  in  win- 


36     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

ter,  but  it  was  perfectly  evident  that  even  at  that 
season  the  deer  must  spend  their  time  in  the  thick 
timber.  There  was  no  chance  for  them  to  go 
above  the  timber  line,  because  the  mountains  were 
densely  wooded  to  their  summits,  and  the  white 
goats  of  the  locality  also  lived  in  the  timber.  It 
was  far  harder  to  get  the  mule-deer  than  it  was  to 
get  the  white  goats,  for  the  latter  were  infinitely 
more  conspicuous,  were  slower  in  their  movements, 
and  bolder  and  less  shy.  Almost  the  only  way 
we  succeeded  in  killing  the  deer  was  by  finding 
one  of  their  well-trodden  paths  and  lying  in  wait 
beside  it  very  early  in  the  morning  or  quite  late 
in  the  afternoon.  The  season  was  August  and 
September,  and  the  deer  were  astir  long  before 
sunset.  They  usually,  but  not  always,  lay  high 
up  on  the  mountain  sides,  and  while  they  some- 
times wandered  to  and  fro  browsing  on  the  moun- 
tains, they  often  came  down  to  feed  in  the  valleys, 
where  the  berries  were  thicker.  Their  paths  were 
well  beaten,  although,  like  all  game  trails,  after 
being  as  plainly  marked  as  a  pony  track  for  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  or  so,  they  would  suddenly 
grow  faint  and  vanish.  The  paths  ran  nearly 
straight  up  and  down  hill,  and  even  when  en- 
tirely undisturbed,  the  deer  often  came  down 
them  at  a  great  rate,  bouncing  along  in  a  way 
that  showed  that  they  have  no  fear  of  develop- 
ing the  sprung  knees  which  we  should  fear  for 


The  Mule- deer  37 

a  domestic    animal   which   habitually   tried   the 
same    experiment. 

In  other  habits  also  the  deer  vary  widely  in 
different  localities.  For  instance,  there  is  an 
absolute  contrast  as  regards  their  migratory  habits 
between  the  mule-deer,  which  live  in  the  Bad 
Lands  along  the  Little  Missouri,  and  those  which 
live  in  northwestern  Colorado ;  and  this  differ- 
ence is  characteristic  generally  of  the  deer  which 
in  the  summer  dwell  in  the  high  mountains,  as 
contrasted  with  those  which  bear  and  rear  their 
young  in  the  low,  broken,  hill-country.  Along 
the  Little  Missouri  there  was  no  regular  or 
clearly  defined  migration  of  the  mule-deer  in  a 
mass.  Some  individual,  or  groups  of  individuals, 
shifted  their  quarters  for  a  few  miles,  so  that  in 
the  spring,  for  instance,  a  particular  district  of  a 
few  square  miles,  in  which  they  had  been  abun- 
dant before,  might  be  wholly  without  them. 
But  there  were  other  districts  which  happened 
to  afford  at  all  times  sufficient  food  and  shelter, 
in  which  they  were  to  be  found  the  year  round ; 
and  the  animals  did  not  band  and  migrate  as 
the  prongbucks  did  in  the  same  region.  In  the 
immediate  neighborhood  of  my  ranch  there  were 
groups  of  high  hills  containing  springs  of  water, 
good  grass,  and  an  abundance  of  cedar,  ash,  and 
all  kinds  of  brush  in  which  mule-deer  were  per- 
manent   residents.     There  were    big  dry  creeks, 


38     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

with  well-wooded  bottoms,  lying  among  rugged 
hills,  in  which  I  have  found  whitetail  and  mule- 
deer  literally  within  a  stone's  throw  of  one 
another.  I  once  started  from  two  adjoining 
pockets  in  this  particular  creek  two  does,  each 
with  a  fawn,  one  being  a  mule-deer  and  the  other 
a  whitetail.  On  another  occasion,  on  an  early 
spring  afternoon,  just  before  the  fawns  were  born, 
I  came  upon  a  herd  of  twenty  whitetails,  does, 
and  young  of  the  preceding  year,  grazing  greedily 
on  the  young  grass ;  and  half  a  mile  up  the  creek, 
in  an  almost  exactly  similar  locality,  I  came  upon 
just  such  a  herd  of  mule-deer.  In  each  case  the 
animals  were  so  absorbed  in  the  feasting,  which 
was  to  make  up  for  their  winter  privations,  that 
I  was  able  to  stalk  to  within  fifty  yards,  though 
of  course  I  did  not  shoot. 

In  northwestern  Colorado  the  conditions  are 
entirely  different.  Throughout  the  region  there 
is  not  a  single  whitetail  to  be  found,  and  never 
has  been,  although  in  the  winter  range  of  the 
mule-deer  there  are  a  few  prongbuck;  and  the 
wapiti  once  abounded.  The  mule-deer  are  still 
plentiful.  They  make  a  complete  migration 
summer  and  winter,  so  that  in  neither  season  is  a 
single  individual  to  be  found  in  the  haunts  they 
frequent  during  the  other  season.  In  the  sum- 
mer they  live  and  bring  forth  their  young  high 
up   in   the   main    chain    of   the   mountains,   in  a 


The  Mule- deer  39 

beautiful  country  of  northern  forest  growth, 
clotted  with  trout-filled  brooks  and  clear  lakes. 
The  snowfall  is  so  deep  in  these  wooded  moun- 
tains that  the  deer  would  run  great  risk  of  perish- 
ing if  they  stayed  therein,  and  indeed,  could  only 
winter  there  at  all  in  very  small  numbers.  Ac- 
cordingly, when  the  storms  begin  in  the  fall, 
usually  about  the  first  of  October,  just  before  the 
rut,  the  deer  assemble  in  bands  and  move  west 
and  south  to  the  lower,  drier  country,  where  the 
rugged  hills  are  here  and  there  clothed  with  an 
open  growth  of  pinyon  and  cedar,  instead  of  the 
tall  spruces  and  pines  of  the  summer  range.  The 
migrating,  bands  follow  one  another  along  definite 
trails  over  mountains,  through  passes  and  valleys, 
and  across  streams ;  and  their  winter  range 
swarms  with  them  a  few  days  after  the  fore- 
runners have  put  in  their  appearance  in  what 
has  been,  during  the  summer,  an  absolutely  deer- 
less  country. 

In  January  and  February,  1901,  I  spent  five 
weeks  north  of  the  White  River,  in  northwestern 
Colorado.  It  was  in  the  heart  of  the  wintering 
ground  of  the  great  Colorado  mule-deer  herd. 
Forty  miles  away  to  the  east,  extending  north, 
lay  the  high  mountains  in  which  these  deer  had 
spent  the  summer.  The  winter  range,  in  which 
I  was  at  the  time  hunting  cougars,  is  a  region  of 
comparatively  light  snowfall,  though  the  cold  is 


40     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

very  bitter.  On  several  occasions  during  my 
stay  the  thermometer  went  down  to  twenty 
degrees  below  zero.  The  hills,  or  low  mountains, 
for  it  was  difficult  to  know  which  to  call  them, 
were  steep  and  broken,  and  separated  by  narrow 
flats  covered  with  sage  brush.  The  ordinary 
trees  were  the  pinyon  and  cedar,  which  were 
scattered  in  rather  open  groves  over  the  moun- 
tain sides  and  the  spurs  between  the  ravines. 
There  were  also  patches  of  quaking  asp,  scrub 
oak,  and  brush.  The  entire  country  was  thinly 
covered  with  ranches,  and  there  were  huge  pas- 
tures enclosed  by  wire  fences.  I  have  never 
seen  the  mule-deer  so  numerous  anywhere  as 
they  were  in  this  country  at  this  time ;  although 
in  1883,  on  the  Little  Missouri,  they  were  almost 
as  plentiful.  There  was  not  a  day  we  did  not 
see  scores,  and  on  some  days  we  saw  hundreds. 
Frequently  they  were  found  in  small  parties  of  two 
or  three,  or  a  dozen  individuals,  but  on  occasions 
we  saw  bands  of  thirty  or  forty.  Only  rarely 
were  they  found  singly.  The  fawns  were  of  course 
well  grown,  being  eight  or  nine  months  old. 
They  were  still  accompanying  their  mothers. 
Ordinarily  a  herd  would  consist  of  does,  fawns, 
and  yearlings,  the  latter  carrying  their  first  ant- 
lers. But  it  was  not  possible  to  lay  down  a  uni- 
versal rule.  Again  and  again  I  saw  herds  in 
which  there  were  one   or  two  full-grown  bucks 


The  Mule- deer  41 

associating  with  the  females  and  younger  deer. 
At  other  times  we  came  across  small  bands  of 
full-grown  bucks  by  themselves ;  and  occasionally 
a  solitary  buck.  Considering  the  extent  to  which 
these  deer  must  have  been  persecuted,  I  did  not 
think  them  shy.  We  were  hunting  on  horseback, 
and  had  hounds  with  us,  so  we  made  no  especial 
attempt  to  avoid  noise.  Yet  very  frequently  we 
would  come  close  on  the  deer  before  they  took 
alarm ;  and  even  when  alarmed  they  would  some- 
times trot  slowly  off,  halting  and  looking  back. 
On  one  occasion,  in  some  bad  lands,  we  came 
upon  four  bucks  which  had  been  sunning  them- 
selves on  the  face  of  a  clay  wall.  They  jumped 
up  and  went  off  one  at  a  time,  very  slowly,  pass- 
ing diagonally  by  us,  certainly  not  over  seventy 
yards  off.  All  four  could  have  been  shot  without 
effort,  and  as  they  had  fine  antlers  I  should  cer- 
tainly have  killed  one,  had  it  been  the  open 
season. 

When  we  came  on  these  Colorado  mule-deer 
suddenly,  they  generally  behaved  exactly  as  their 
brethren  used  to  in  the  old  days  on  the  Little 
Missouri ;  that  is,  they  would  run  off  at  a  good 
speed  for  a  hundred  yards  or  so,  then  slow  up, 
halt,  gaze  inquisitively  at  us  for  some  seconds, 
and  again  take  to  flight.  While  the  sun  was 
strong  they  liked  to  lie  out  in  the  low  brush  on 
slopes  where  they  would  get  the  full  benefit  of 


42     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

the  heat.  During  the  heavy  snowstorms  they 
usually  retreated  into  some  ravine  where  the  trees 
grew  thicker  than  usual,  not  stirring  until  the 
weight  of  the  storm  was  over.  Most  of  the  night, 
especially  if  it  was  moonlight,  they  fed ;  but  they 
were  not  at  all  regular  about  this.  I  frequently 
saw  them  standing  up  and  grazing,  or  more  rarely 
browsing,  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  in  the 
late  afternoon  they  often  came  down  to  graze 
on  the  flats  within  view  of  the  different  ranch 
houses  where  I  happened  to  stop.  The  hours 
for  feeding  and  resting,  however,  always  vary 
accordingly  as  the  deer  are  or  are  not  perse- 
cuted. In  wild  localities  I  have  again  and  again 
found  these  deer  grazing  at  all  hours  of  the  day, 
and  coming  to  water  at  high  noon  ;  whereas,  where 
they  have  been  much  persecuted,  they  only  begin 
to  feed  after  dusk,  and  come  to  water  after  dark. 
Of  course  during  this  winter  weather  they  could 
get  no  water,  snow  supplying  its  place. 

I  was  immensely  interested  with  the  way  they 
got  through  the  wire  fences.  A  mule-deer  is  a 
great  jumper ;  I  have  known  them  to  clear  with 
ease  high  timber  corral  fences  surrounding  hay- 
ricks. If  the  animals  had  chosen,  they  could  have 
jumped  any  of  the  wire  fences  I  saw ;  yet  never 
in  a  single  instance  did  I  see  one  of  them  so  jump 
a  fence,  nor  did  I  ever  find  in  the  tell-tale  snow 
tracks   which   indicated    their   having    done   so. 


The  Mule- deer  43 

They  paid  no  heed  whatever  to  the  fences,  so 
far  as  I  could  see,  and  went  through  them  at 
will ;  but  they  always  got  between  the  wires,  or 
went  under  the  lowest  wire.  The  dexterity  with 
which  they  did  this  was  extraordinary.  When 
alarmed  they  would  run  full  speed  toward  a  wire 
fence,  would  pass  through  it,  often  hardly  alter- 
ing their  stride,  and  never  making  any  marks 
in  the  snow  which  looked  as  though  they  had 
crawled.  Twice  I  saw  bands  thus  go  through  a 
wire  fence,  once  at  speed,  the  other  time  when 
they  were  not  alarmed.  On  both  occasions  they 
were  too  far  off  to  allow  me  to  see  exactly  their 
mode  of  procedure,  but  on  examining  the  snow 
where  they  had  passed,  there  was  not  the  slightest 
mark  of  their  bodies,  and  the  alteration  in  their 
gait,  as  shown  by  the  footprints,  was  hardly  per- 
ceptible. In  one  instance,  however,  where  I  scared 
a  young  buck  which  ran  over  a  hill  and  through 
a  wire  fence  on  the  other  side,  I  found  one  of  his 
antlers  lying  beside  the  fence,  it  having  evidently 
been  knocked  off  by  the  wire.  Their  antlers 
were  getting  very  loose,  and  toward  the  end  of 
our  stay  they  had  begun  to  shed  them. 

The  deer  were  preyed  on  by  many  foes.  Sports- 
men and  hide  hunters  had  been  busy  during  the 
fall  migrations,  and  the  ranchmen  of  the  neighbor- 
hood were  shooting  them  occasionally  for  food, 
even  when  we  were  out  there.     The  cougars  at 


44     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

this  season  were  preying  upon  them  practically 
to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else.  We  came 
upon  one  large  fawn  which  had  been  killed  by  a 
bobcat.  The  gray  wolves  were  also  preying  upon 
them.  A  party  of  these  wolves  can  sometimes 
run  down  even  an  unwounded  blacktail ;  I  have 
myself  known  of  their  performing  this  feat.  Twice 
on  this  very  hunt  we  came  across  the  carcasses 
of  blacktail  which  had  thus  been  killed  by  wolves, 
and  one  of  the  cowpunchers  at  a  ranch  where  we 
were  staying  came  in  and  reported  to  us  that  while 
riding  among  the  cattle  that  afternoon  he  had  seen 
two  coyotes  run  a  young  mule-deer  to  a  stand- 
still, and  they  would  without  doubt  have  killed  it 
had  they  not  been  frightened  by  his  approach. 
Still  the  wolf  is  very  much  less  successful  than 
the  cougar  in  killing  these  deer,  and  even  the  cou- 
gar continually  fails  in  his  stalks.  But  the  deer 
were  so  plentiful  that  at  this  time  all  the  cougars 
we  killed  were  very  fat,  and  evidently  had  no 
difficulty  in  getting  as  much  venison  as  they 
needed.  The  wolves  were  not  as  well  off,  and 
now  and  then  made  forays  on  the  young  stock  of 
the  ranchmen,  which  at  this  season  the  cougar  let 
alone,  reserving  his  attention  to  them  for  the  sum- 
mer season  when  the  deer  has  vanished. 

In  the  Big  Horn  Mountains,  where  I  also  saw 
a  good  deal  of  the  mule-deer,  their  habits  were 
intermediate  between    those  of   the  species    that 


The  Mule- deer  45 

dwell  on  the  plains  and  those  that  dwell  in  the 
densely  timbered  regions  of  the  Rockies  further 
to  the  northwest.  In  the  summer  time  they  lived 
high  up  on  the  plateaus  of  the  Big  Horn,  some- 
times feeding  in  the  open  glades  and  sometimes 
in  the  pine  forests.  In  the  fall  they  browsed  on 
certain  of  the  bushes  almost  exclusively.  In  win- 
ter they  came  down  into  the  low  country.  South 
of  the  Yellowstone  Park,  where  the  wapiti  swarmed, 
the  mule-deer  were  not  numerous.  I  believe  that 
by  choice  they  prefer  rugged,  open  country,  and 
they  certainly  care  comparatively  little  for  bad 
weather,  as  they  will  often  visit  bleak,  wind-swept 
ridges  in  midwinter,  as  being  places  where  they 
can  best  get  food  at  that  season,  when  the  snow 
lies  deep  in  the  sheltered  places.  Nevertheless, 
many  of  the  species  pass  their  whole  life  in  thick 
timber. 

My  chief  opportunities  for  observing  the  mule- 
deer  were  in  the  eighties,  when  I  spent  much  of 
my  time  on  my  ranch  on  the  Little  Missouri. 
Mule-deer  were  then  very  plentiful,  and  I  killed 
more  of  them  than  of  all  other  game  put  together. 
At  that  time  in  the  cattle  country  no  ranchman 
ever  thought  of  killing  beef,  and  if  we  had  fresh 
meat  at  all  it  was  ordinarily  venison.  In  the 
fall  we  usually  tried  to  kill  enough  deer  to  last 
out  the  winter.  Until  the  settlers  came  in,  the 
Little  Missouri  country  was  an  ideal  range  for 


4.6     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

mule-deer,  and  they  fairly  swarmed ;  while  elk 
were  also  plentiful,  and  the  restless  herds  of  the 
buffalo  surged  at  intervals  through  the  land. 
After  1882  and  1883  the  buffalo  and  elk  were 
killed  out,  the  former  completely,  and  the  latter 
practically,  and  the  skin  hunters,  and  then  the 
ranchers,  turned  their  attention  chiefly  to  the 
mule-deer.  It  lived  in  open  country  where  there 
was  cover  for  the  stalker,  and  so  it  was  much 
easier  to  kill  than  either  the  whitetail,  which 
was  found  in  the  dense  cover  of  the  river  bot- 
toms, or  the  prongbuck,  which  was  found  far 
back  from  the  river,  on  the  flat  prairies  where 
there  was  no  cover  at  all.  I  have  been  informed 
of  other  localities  in  which  the  antelope  has  dis- 
appeared long  before  the  mule-deer,  and  I  believe 
that  in  the  Rockies  the  mule-deer  has  a  far  better 
chance  of  survival  than  the  antelope  has  on  the 
plains;  but  on  the  Little  Missouri  the  antelope 
continued  plentiful  long  after  the  mule-deer  had 
become  decidedly  scarce.  In  1886  I  think  the 
antelope  were  fully  as  abundant  as  ever  they  were, 
while  the  mule-deer  had  wofully  diminished.  In 
the  early  nineties  there  were  still  regions  within 
thirty  or  forty  miles  of  my  ranch,  where  the  ante- 
lope were  very  plentiful  —  far  more  so  than  the 
mule-deer  were  at  that  time.  Now  they  are  both 
scarce  along  the  Little  Missouri,  and  which  will 
outlast  the  other  I  cannot  say. 


The  Mule- deer  47 

In  the  old  days,  as  I  have  already  said,  it  was 
by  no  means  infrequent  to  see  both  the  whitetail 
and  the  mule-deer  close  together,  and  when,  under 
such  circumstances,  they  were  alarmed,  one  got  a 
peculiarly  clear  idea  of  the  extraordinary  gait 
which  is  the  mule-deer's  most  striking  character- 
istic. It  trots  wells,  gallops  if  hard  pressed,  and 
is  a  good  climber,  though  much  inferior  to  the 
mountain  sheep.  But  its  normal  gait  consists  of 
a  series  of  stiff-legged  bounds,  all  four  feet  leav- 
ing and  striking  the  ground  at  the  same  time. 
This  gait  differs  more  from  the  gait  of  bighorn, 
prongbuck,  whitetail,  and  wapiti  than  the  gaits  of 
these  latter  animals  differ  among  themselves. 
The  wapiti,  for  instance,  rarely  gallops,  but  when 
he  does,  it  is  a  gallop  of  the  ordinary  type.  The 
prongbuck  runs  with  a  singularly  even  gait; 
whereas  the  whitetail  makes  great  bounds,  some 
much  higher  than  others.  But  fundamentally  in 
all  cases  the  action  is  the  same,  and  has  no  resem- 
blance to  the  stiff-legged  buck  jumping  which  is 
the  ordinary  means  of  progression  of  the  mule- 
deer.  These  jumps  carry  it  not  only  on  the  level, 
but  up  and  down  hill  at  a  great  speed.  It  is  said 
to  be  a  tiresome  gait  for  the  animal,  if  hunted  for 
any  length  of  time  on  the  level ;  but  of  this  I 
cannot  speak  with  full  knowledge. 

Compared  to  the  wapiti,  the  mule-deer,  like 
our  other  small  deer,  is  a  very  silent  animal.    For 


48     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

a  long  time  I  believed  it  uttered  no  sound  beyond 
the  snort  of  alarm  and  the  rare  bleat  of  the  doe 
to  her  fawn ;  but  one  afternoon  I  heard  two  bucks 
grunting  or  barking  at  one  another  in  a  ravine 
back  of  the  ranch-house,  and  crept  up  and  shot 
them.  I  was  still  uncertain  whether  this  was  an 
indication  of  a  regular  habit ;  but  a  couple  of 
years  later,  on  a  moonlight  night  just  after  sunset, 
I  heard  a  big  buck  travelling  down  a  ravine  and 
continually  barking,  evidently  as  a  love  challenge. 
I  have  been  informed  by  some  hunters  that  the 
bucks  at  the  time  of  the  rut  not  infrequently  thus 
grunt  and  bark ;  but  most  hunters  are  ignorant 
of  this  habit;  and  it  is  certainly  not  a  common 
practice. 

The  species  is  not  nearly  as  gregarious  as  the 
wapiti  or  caribou.  During  the  winter  the  bucks 
are  generally  found  singly,  or  in  small  parties  by 
themselves,  although  occasionally  one  will  associ- 
ate with  a  party  of  does  and  of  young  deer.  When 
in  May  or  June  —  for  the  exact  time  varies  with 
the  locality  —  the  doe  brings  forth  her  young,  she 
retires  to  some  lonely  thicket.  Sometimes  one 
and  sometimes  two  fawns  are  brought  forth.  They 
lie  very  close  for  the  first  few  days.  I  have  picked 
them  up  and  handled  them  without  their  making 
the  slightest  effort  to  escape,  while  the  mother 
hung  about  a  few  hundred  yards  off.  On  one 
occasion  I  by  accident  surprised  a  doe  in  the  very 


The  Mule- deer  49 

act  of  giving  birth  to  two  fawns.  One  had  just 
been  born  and  the  other  was  born  as  the  doe 
made  her  first  leap  away.  She  ran  off  with  as 
much  speed  and  unconcern  as  if  nothing  what- 
ever had  happened.  I  passed  on  immediately, 
lest  she  should  be  so  frightened  as  not  to  come 
back  to  the  fawns.  It  has  happened  that  where 
I  have  found  the  newly  born  fawns  I  have  invari- 
ably found  the  doe  to  be  entirely  alone,  but  her 
young  of  the  previous  year  must  sometimes  at 
least  be  in  the  neighborhood,  for  a  little  later  I 
have  frequently  seen  the  doe  and  her  fawn  or 
fawns,  and  either  one  or  two  young  of  the  previ- 
ous year,  together.  Often,  however,  these  young 
deer  will  themselves  be  alone,  or  associated  with 
an  older  doe  which  is  barren.  The  bucks  at  the 
same  time  go  to  secluded  places;  sometimes 
singly,  while  sometimes  an  old  buck  will  be  accom- 
panied by  a  younger  one,  or  a  couple  of  old  bucks 
will  lie  together.  They  move  about  as  little  as 
possible  while  their  horns  are  growing,  and  if  a 
hunter  comes  by,  they  will  lie  far  closer  than  at 
any  other  time  of  the  year,  squatting  in  the  dense 
thickets  as  if  they  were  whitetails. 

When  in  the  Bad  Lands  of  the  western  Da- 
kotas  the  late  September  breezes  grow  cold,  then 
the  bucks,  their  horns  already  clean  of  velvet 
which  they  have  thrashed  off  on  the  bushes  and 
saplings,   feel   their   necks   begin   to   swell ;  and 


So     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

early  in  October  —  sometimes  not  until  Novem- 
ber —  they  seek  the  does.  The  latter,  especially 
the  younger  ones,  at  first  flee  in  frantic  haste. 
As  the  rut  goes  on  the  bucks  become  ever  bolder 
and  more  ardent.  Not  only  do  they  chase  the 
does  by  night  but  also  by  day.  I  have  sat  on  the 
side  of  a  ravine  in  the  Bad  Lands  at  noon  and 
seen  a  young  doe  race  past  me  as  if  followed  by 
a  wolf.  When  she  was  out  of  sight  a  big  buck 
appeared  on  her  trail,  following  it  by  scent,  also 
at  speed.  When  he  had  passed  I  got  up,  and  the 
motion  frightened  a  younger  buck  which  was  fol- 
lowing two  or  three  hundred  yards  in  the  rear  of 
the  big  one.  After  a  while  the  doe  yields,  and 
the  buck  then  accompanies  her.  If,  however,  it 
is  early  in  the  season,  he  may  leave  her  entirely 
in  order  to  run  after  another  doe.  Later  in  the 
season  he  will  have  a  better  chance  of  adding  the 
second  doe  to  his  harem,  or  of  robbing  another 
buck  of  the  doe  or  does  which  he  has  accumu- 
lated. I  have  often  seen  merely  one  doe  and  one 
buck  together,  and  I  have  often  seen  a  single  doe 
which  for  several  days  was  accompanied  by  sev- 
eral bucks,  one  keeping  off  the  others.  But 
generally  the  biggest  bucks  collect  each  for  him- 
self several  does,  yearlings  also  being  allowed  in 
the  band.  The  exact  amount  of  companionship 
with  the  does  allowed  these  young  bucks  depends 
somewhat  upon  the  temper  of  the  master  buck. 


THE  BLACKTAIL  OF  COLORADO 


The  Mule- deer  51 

In  books  by  imperfectly  informed  writers  we  often 
see  allusions  to  the  buck  as  protecting  the  doe, 
or  even  taking  care  of  the  fawn.  Charles  Dudley 
Warner,  for  instance,  in  describing  with  great 
skill  and  pathos  an  imaginary  deer  hunt,  after 
portraying  the  death  of  the  doe,  portrays  the 
young  fawn  as  following  the  buck  when  the  latter 
comes  back  to  it  in  the  evening.1  While  the 
fawn  is  so  young  as  to  be  wholly  dependent  upon 
the  doe,  the  buck  never  comes  near  either.  More- 
over, during  the  period  when  the  buck  and  the  doe 
are  together,  the  buck's  attitude  is  merely  that  of 
a  brutal,  greedy,  and  selfish  tyrant.  He  will  un- 
hesitatingly rob  the  doe  of  any  choice  bit  of  food, 
and  though  he  will  fight  to  keep  her  if  another 
buck  approaches,  the  moment  that  a  dangerous 
foe  appears  his  one  thought  is  for  his  own  preser- 
vation. He  will  not  only  desert  the  doe,  but  if 
he  is  an  old  and  cunning  buck,  he  will  try  his 
best  to  sacrifice  her  by  diverting  the  attention  of 
the  pursuer  to  her  and  away  from  him. 

By  the  end  of  the  rut  the  old  bucks  are  often 
exhausted,  their  sides  thin,  their  necks  swollen ; 
though  they  are  never  as  gaunt  as  wapiti  bulls  at 
this  time.     They  then  rest  as  much  as  possible, 

1  While  the  situation  thus  described  was  an  impossible  one,  the 
purpose  of  Mr.  Warner's  article  was  excellent,  it  being  intended  as 
a  protest  against  hunting  deer  while  the  fawns  are  young,  and  against 
killing  them  in  the  water. 


52     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

feeding  all  the  time  to  put  on  fat  before  winter 
arrives,  and  rapidly  attaining  a  very  high  condi- 
tion. 

Except  in  dire  need  no  one  would  kill  a  deer 
after  the  hard  weather  of  winter  begins  or  before 
the  antlers  of  the  buck  are  full-grown  and  the 
fawns  are  out  of  the  spotted  coat.  Even  in  the 
old  days  we,  who  lived  in  the  ranch  country,  al- 
ways tried  to  avoid  killing  deer  in  the  spring  or 
early  summer,  though  we  often  shot  buck  ante- 
lope at  those  times.  The  close  season  for  deer 
varies  in  different  states,  and  now  there  is  gen- 
erally a  limit  set  to  the  number  any  one  hunter 
can  kill ;  for  the  old  days  of  wasteful  plenty  are 
gone  forever. 

To  my  mind  there  is  a  peculiar  fascination  in 
hunting  the  mule-deer.  By  the  time  the  hunting 
season  has  arrived,  the  buck  is  no  longer  the 
slinking  beast  of  the  thicket,  but  a  bold  and  yet 
wary  dweller  in  the  uplands.  Frequently  he  can 
be  found  clear  of  all  cover,  often  at  midday,  and 
his  habits  at  this  season  are,  from  the  hunter's 
standpoint,  rather  more  like  those  of  the  wapiti 
than  of  the  whitetail ;  but  each  band,  though  con- 
tinually shifting  its  exact  position,  stays  perma- 
nently in  the  same  tract  of  country,  whereas 
wapiti  are  more  apt  to  wander. 

In  the  old  days,  when  mule-deer  were  plentiful 
in  country  through  which  a  horse  could  go  at  a 


The  Mule -deer  53 

fair  rate  of  speed,  it  was  very  common  for  the 
hunter  to  go  on  horseback  and  not  to  dismount 
save  at  the  moment  of  the  shot.  In  the  early- 
eighties,  while  on  my  ranch  on  the  Little  Missouri, 
this  was  the  way  in  which  I  usually  hunted. 
When  I  first  established  my  ranch  I  have  often 
gone  out  in  the  fall,  after  the  day's  work  was  over, 
and  killed  a  deer  before  dark.  If  it  was  in  Sep- 
tember, I  would  sometimes  start  after  supper. 
Later  in  the  year  I  would  take  supper  when  I 
got  back.  Under  such  circumstances  my.  mode 
of  procedure  was  perfectly  simple.  Deer  were 
plentiful.  Every  big  tangle  of  hills,  every  set  of 
grassy  coulies  winding  down  to  a  big  creek  bot- 
tom, was  sure  to  contain  them.  The  time  being 
short,  with  at  most  only  an  hour  or  two  of  light, 
I  made  no  effort  to  find  the  tracks  of  a  deer  or 
to  spy  one  afar  off.  I  simply  rode  through  the 
likely  places,  across  the  heads  of  the  ravines  or 
down  the  winding  valleys,  until  I  jumped  a  deer 
close  enough  up  to  give  me  a  shot.  The  unshod 
hoofs  of  the  horse  made  but  little  noise  as  he 
shuffled  along  at  the  regular  cow-pony  fox  trot, 
and  I  kept  him  close  into  the  bank  or  behind 
cover,  so  as  to  come  around  each  successive  point 
without  warning.  If  the  ground  was  broken  and 
rugged,  I  made  no  attempt  to  go  fast.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  struck  a  smooth  ravine  with  gentle 
curves,  I   would  often  put  the  pony  to  a  sharp 


54     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

canter  or  gallop,  so  as  to  come  quickly  on  any 
deer  before  it  could  quite  make  up  its  mind  what 
course  was  best  to  follow.  Sooner  or  later,  as 
I  passed  a  thick  clump  of  young  ash  or  buck 
brush,  or  came  abruptly  around  a  sharp  bend, 
there  would  be  a  snort,  and  then  the  thud,  thud, 
thud,  of  four  hoofs  striking  the  ground  exactly  in 
unison,  and  away  would  go  a  mule-deer  with  the 
peculiar  bounding  motion  of  its  kind.  The  pony, 
well  accustomed  to  the  work,  stopped  short,  and 
I  was  off  its  back  in  an  instant.  If  the  deer  had 
not  made  out  exactly  what  I  was,  it  would  often 
show  by  its  gait  that  it  was  not  yet  prepared  to 
run  straight  out  of  sight.  Under  such  circum- 
stances I  would  wait  until  it  stopped  and  turned 
round  to  look  back.  If  it  was  going  very  fast,  I 
took  the  shot  running.  Once  I  thus  put  up  a 
young  buck  from  some  thick  brush  in  the  bottom 
of  a  winding  washout.  I  leaped  off  the  pony, 
standing  within  ten  yards  of  the  washout.  The 
buck  went  up  a  hill  on  my  left,  and  as  he  reached 
the  top  and  paused  for  a  second  on  the  sky  line, 
I  fired.  At  the  shot  there  was  a  great  scram- 
bling and  crashing  in  the  washout  below  me,  and 
another  and  larger  buck  came  out  and  tore  off 
in  frantic  haste.  I  fired  several  shots  at  him, 
finally  bringing  him  down.  Meanwhile,  the  other 
buck  had  disappeared,  but  there  was  blood  on  his 
trail,  and  I  found  him  lying  down  in  the  next 


The  Mule- deer  55 

coulie,  and  finished  him.  This  was  not  much 
over  a  mile  from  the  ranch-house,  and  after  dress- 
ing the  deer,  I  put  one  behind  the  saddle  and 
one  on  it,  and  led  the  pony  home. 

Such  hunting,  though  great  fun,  does  not  imply- 
any  particular  skill  either  in  horsemanship,  marks- 
manship, or  plainscraft  and  knowledge  of  the  ani- 
mal's habits ;  and  it  can  of  course  be  followed  only 
where  the  game  is  very  plentiful.  Ordinarily  the 
mule-deer  must  be  killed  by  long  tramping  among 
the  hills,  skilful  stalking,  and  good  shooting. 
The  successful  hunter  should  possess  good  eyes, 
good  wind,  and  good  muscles.  He  should  know 
how  to  take  cover  and  how  to  use  his  rifle.  The 
work  is  sufficiently  rough  to  test  any  man's  endur- 
ance, and  yet  there  is  no  such  severe  and  intense 
toil  as  in  following  true  mountain  game,  like  the 
bighorn  or  white  goat.  As  the  hunter's  one  aim 
is  to  see  the  deer  before  it  sees  him,  he  can  only 
use  the  horse  to  take  him  to  the  hunting-ground, 
Then  he  must  go  through  the  most  likely  ground 
and  from  every  point  of  vantage  scan  with  minute 
care  the  landscape  round  about,  while  himself  un- 
seen. If  the  country  is  wild  and  the  deer  have 
not  been  much  molested,  he  will  be  very  apt  to 
come  across  a  band  that  is  feeding.  Under  such 
circumstances  it  is  easy  to  see  them  at  once.  But 
if  lying  down,  it  is  astonishing  how  the  gray  of 
their  winter  coats  fits  in  with  the  color  of  their 


56     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

surroundings.  Too  often  I  have  looked  carefully 
over  a  valley  with  my  glasses  until,  thinking  I  had 
searched  every  nook,  I  have  risen  and  gone  for- 
ward, only  to  see  a  deer  rise  and  gallop  off  out  of 
range  from  some  spot  which  I  certainly  thought 
I  had  examined  with  all  possible  precaution.  If 
the  hunter  is  not  himself  hidden,  he  will  have  his 
labor  for  his  pains.  Neither  the  mule-deer  nor  the 
white-tail  is  by  any  means  as  keen-sighted  as  the 
prong-horn  antelope,  and  men  accustomed  chiefly 
to  antelope  shooting  are  quite  right  in  speaking  of 
the  sight  of  deer  as  poor  by  comparison.  But  this 
is  only  by  comparison.  A  motionless  object  does 
not  attract  a  deer's  gaze  as  it  attracts  the  tele- 
scopic eye  of  a  prongbuck;  but  any  motion  is 
seen  at  once,  and  as  soon  as  this  has  occurred,  the 
chances  of  the  hunter  are  usually  at  an  end.  On 
the  other  hand,  from  the  nature  of  its  haunts  the 
mule-deer  usually  offers  fairly  good  opportunities 
for  stalking.  It  is  not  as  big  or  as  valuable  as 
the  elk,  and  therefore  it  is  not  as  readily  seen  or 
as  eagerly  followed,  and  in  consequence  holds  its 
own  better.  But  though  the  sport  it  yields  calls 
normally  for  a  greater  amount  of  hardihood  and 
endurance  in  the  hunter  than  is  the  case  with  the 
sport  yielded  by  the  prongbuck,  and  especially  by 
the  whitetail,  yet  when  existing  in  like  numbers 
it  is  easier  to  kill  than  either  of  these  two 
animals. 


The  Mule-deer  57 

Sometimes  in  the  early  fall,  when  hunting  from 
the  ranch,  I  have  spent  the  night  in  some  likely 
locality,  sleeping  rolled  up  in  a  blanket  on  the 
ground  so  as  to  be  ready  to  start  at  the  first 
streak  of  dawn.  On  one  such  occasion  a  couple 
of  mule-deer  came  to  where  my  horse  was  pick- 
eted just  before  I  got  up.  I  heard  them  snort  or 
whistle,  and  very  slowly  unwrapped  myself  from 
the  blanket,  turned  over,  and  crawled  out,  rifle  in 
hand.  Overhead  the  stars  were  paling  in  the 
faint  gray  light,  but  the  ravine  in  which  the  deer 
were  was  still  so  black  that,  watch  as  I  would,  I 
could  not  see  them.  I  feared  to  move  around  lest 
I  might  disturb  them,  but  after  wriggling  toward 
a  little  jutting  shoulder  I  lay  still  to  wait  for  the 
light.  They  went  off,  however,  while  it  was  still 
too  dusk  to  catch  more  than  their  dim  and  form- 
less outlines,  and  though  I  followed  them  as  rap- 
idly and  cautiously  as  possible,  I  never  got  a  shot 
at  them.  On  other  occasions  fortune  has  favored 
me,  and  before  the  sun  rose  I  have  spied  some 
buck  leisurely  seeking  his  day  bed,  and  have  been 
able  either  to  waylay  him  or  make  a  running  stalk 
on  him  from  behind. 

In  the  old  days  it  was  the  regular  thing  with 
most  ranchmen  to  take  a  trip  in  the  fall  for  the 
purpose  of  laying  in  the  winter's  supply  of  venison. 
I  frequently  took  such  trips  myself,  and  though 
occasionally   we    killed   wapiti,    bighorn,   prong- 


58     Deer  and  Antehpe  of  North  America 

buck,  and  whitetail,  our  ordinary  game  was  the 
mule-deer.  Around  my  ranch  it  was  not  neces- 
sary to  go  very  far.  A  day's  journey  with  the 
wagon  would  usually  take  us  to  where  a  week's 
hunting  would  enable  us  to  return  with  a  dozen 
deer  or  over.  If  there  was  need  of  more,  I  would 
repeat  the  hunt  later  on.  I  have  several  times 
killed  three  of  these  deer  in  a  day,  but  I  do  not 
now  recall  ever  killing  a  greater  number.  It  is 
perhaps  unnecessary  to  say  that  every  scrap  of 
flesh  was  used. 

These  hunts  were  always  made  late  in  the  fall, 
usually  after  the  close  of  the  rut.  The  deer  were 
then  banded,  and  were  commonly  found  in  parties 
of  from  three  or  four  to  a  score,  although  the  big 
bucks  might  be  lying  by  themselves.  The  weather 
was  apt  to  be  cold,  and  the  deer  evidently  liked  to 
sun  themselves,  so  that  at  midday  they  could  be 
found  lying,  sometimes  in  thin  brush  and  some- 
times boldly  out  on  the  face  of  a  cliff  or  hill.  If 
they  were  unmolested,  they  would  feed  at  intervals 
throughout  the  day,  and  not  until  the  bands  had 
been  decimated  by  excessive  hunting,  did  they 
ever  spend  the  hours  of  daylight  in  hiding. 

On  such  a  hunt  our  proceedings  were  perfectly 
simple.  The  nights  were  longer  than  the  days, 
and  therefore  we  were  away  from  camp  at  the  first 
streak  of  dawn,  and  might  not  return  until  long 
after  darkness.     All  the  time  between  was  spent 


The  Mule- deer  59 

in  climbing  and  walking  through  the  rugged  hills, 
keeping  a  sharp  lookout  for  our  game.  Only  too 
often  we  were  seen  before  we  ourselves  saw  the 
quarry,  and  even  when  this  was  not  the  case,  the 
stalks  were  sometimes  failures.  Still  blank  days 
were  not  very  common.  Probably  every  hunter 
remembers  with  pride  some  particular  stalk.  I 
recall  now  outwitting  a  big  buck  which  I  had  seen 
and  failed  to  get  on  two  successive  days.  He  was 
hanging  about  a  knot  of  hills  with  brush  on  their 
shoulders,  and  was  not  only  very  watchful,  but 
when  he  lay  down  always  made  his  bed  at  the 
lower  end  of  a  brush  patch,  whence  he  could  see 
into  the  valley  below,  while  it  was  impossible  to 
approach  him  from  above,  through  the  brush,  with- 
out giving  the  alarm.  On  the  third  day  I  saw 
him  early  in  the  morning,  while  he  was  feeding. 
He  was  very  watchful,  and  I  made  no  attempt  to 
get  near  him,  simply  peeping  at  him  until  he 
finally  went  into  a  patch  of  thin  brush  and  lay 
down.  As  I  knew  what  he  was  I  could  distinctly 
make  him  out.  If  I  had  not  seen  him  go  in,  I 
certainly  never  would  have  imagined  that  he  was 
a  deer,  even  had  my  eyes  been  able  to  pick  him 
out  at  all  among  the  gray  shadows  and  small  dead 
tree-tops.  Having  waited  until  he  was  well  settled 
down,  I  made  a  very  long  turn  and  came  up  behind 
him,  only  to  find  that  the  direction  of  the  wind 
and  the  slope  of  the  hill  rendered  it  an  absolute 


60     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

impossibility  to  approach  him  unperceived.  After 
careful  study  of  the  ground  I  abandoned  the  effort, 
and  returned  to  my  former  position,  having  spent 
several  hours  of  considerable  labor  in  vain.  It 
was  now  about  noon,  and  I  thought  I  would  lie 
still  to  see  what  he  would  do  when  he  got  up,  and 
accordingly  I  ate  my  lunch  stretched  at  full  length 
in  the  long  grass  which  sheltered  me  from  the 
wind.  From  time  to  time  I  peered  cautiously 
between  two  stones  toward  where  the  buck  lay. 
It  was  nearly  mid-afternoon  before  he  moved. 
Sometimes  mule-deer  rise  with  a  single  motion, 
all  four  legs  unbending  like  springs,  so  that  the 
four  hoofs  touch  the  ground  at  once.  This  old 
buck,  however,  got  up  very  slowly,  looked  about 
for  certainly  five  minutes,  and  then  came  directly 
down  the  hill  and  toward  me.  When  he  had 
nearly  reached  the  bottom  of  the  valley  between 
us  he  turned  to  the  right  and  sauntered  rapidly 
down  it.  I  slipped  back  and  trotted  as  fast  as  I 
could  without  losing  my  breath  along  the  hither 
side  of  the  spur  which  lay  between  me  and  the 
buck.  While  I  was  out  of  sight  he  had  for  some 
reason  made  up  his  mind  to  hurry,  and  when  I 
was  still  fifty  yards  from  the  end  of  the  spur  he 
came  in  sight  just  beyond  it,  passing  at  a  swing- 
ing trot.  I  dropped  on  one  knee  so  quickly  that 
for  a  moment  he  evidently  could  not  tell  what  I 
was,  —  my  buckskin  shirt   and   gray   slouch-hat 


The  Mule- deer  6\ 

fading  into  the  color  of  the  background  —  and 
halted,  looking  sharply  around.  Before  he  could 
break  into  flight  my  bullet  went  through  his 
shoulders. 

Twice  I  have  killed  two  of  these  deer  at  a 
shot ;  once  two  bucks,  and  once  a  doe  and  a 
buck. 

It  has  proved  difficult  to  keep  the  mule-deer 
in  captivity,  even  in  large  private  parks  or  roomy 
zoological  gardens.  I  think  this  is  because 
hitherto  the  experiment  has  been  tried  east  of 
the  Mississippi  in  an  alien  habitat.  The  wapiti 
and  whitetail  are  species  that  are  at  home  over 
most  of  the  United  States,  East  and  West,  in  rank, 
wet  prairies,  dense  woodland,  and  dry  mountain 
regions  alike ;  but  the  mule-deer  has  a  far  more 
sharply  localized  distribution.  In  the  Bronx 
Zoological  Gardens,  in  New  York,  Mr.  Hornaday 
informs  me  that  he  has  comparatively  little  diffi- 
culty in  keeping  up  the  stock  alike  of  wapiti  and 
whitetail  by  breeding  —  as  indeed  any  visitor  can 
see  for  himself.  The  same  is  true  in  the  game 
preserves  in  the  wilder  regions  of  New  York  and 
New  England ;  but  hitherto  the  mule-deer  has 
offered  an  even  more  difficult  problem  in  captivity 
than  the  pronghorn  antelope.  Doubtless  the 
difficulty  would  be  minimized  if  the  effort  at 
domestication  were  made  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains. 


62     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

The  true  way  to  preserve  the  mule-deer,  how- 
ever, as  well  as  our  other  game,  is  to  establish  on 
the  nation's  property  great  nurseries  and  winter- 
ing grounds,  such  as  the  Yellowstone  Park,  and 
then  to  secure  fair  play  for  the  deer  outside  these 
grounds  by  a  wisely  planned  and  faithfully  exe- 
cuted series  of  game  laws.  This  is  the  really 
democratic  method  of  solving  the  problem.  Occa- 
sionally even  yet  some  one  will  assert  that  the 
game  "  belongs  to  the  people,  and  should  be 
given  over  to  them "  —  meaning,  thereby,  that 
there  should  be  no  game  laws,  and  that  every 
man  should  be  at  liberty  indiscriminately  to  kill 
every  kind  of  wild  animal,  harmless,  useless,  or 
noxious,  until  the  day  when  our  woods  become 
wholly  bereft  of  all  the  forms  of  higher  animal 
life.  Such  an  argument  can  only  be  made  from 
the  standpoint  of  those  big  game  dealers  in  the 
cities  who  care  nothing  for  the  future,  and  desire 
to  make  money  at  the  present  day  by  a  slaughter 
which  in  the  last  analysis  only  benefits  the  wealthy 
people  who  are  able  to  pay  for  the  game,  —  for 
once  the  game  has  been  destroyed,  the  livelihood 
of  the  professional  gunner  will  be  taken  away. 
Most  emphatically  wild  game  not  on  private 
property  does  belong  to  the  people,  and  the  only 
way  in  which  the  people  can  secure  their  owner- 
ship is  by  protecting  it  in  the  interest  of  all 
against  the  vandal  few.      As  we  grow  older    I 


The  Mule- deer  63 

think  most  of  us  become  less  keen  about  that 
part  of  the  hunt  which  consists  in  the  killing. 
I  know  that  as  far  as  I  am  concerned  I  have 
long  gone  past  the  stage  when  the  chief  end  of 
a  hunting  trip  was  the  bag.  One  or  two  bucks, 
or  enough  grouse  and  trout  to  keep  the  camp 
supplied,  will  furnish  all  the  sport  necessary  to 
give  zest  and  point  to  a  trip  in  the  wilderness. 
When  hunters  proceed  on  such  a  plan  they  do 
practically  no  damage  to  the  game.  Those  who 
are  not  willing  to  act  along  these  lines  of  their 
own  free  will,  should  be  made  to  by  the  state. 
The  people  of  Montana,  Wyoming,  and  Colorado, 
and  of  the  states  near  by,  can  do  a  real  service, 
primarily  to  themselves,  but  secondarily  to  others 
also,  by  framing  and  executing  laws  which  will 
keep  these  noble  deer  as  permanent  denizens  of 
their  lofty  mountains  and  beautiful  valleys.  There 
are  other  things  much  more  important  than  game 
laws ;  but  it  will  be  a  great  mistake  to  imagine 
because  until  recently  in  Europe  game  laws  have 
been  administered  in  the  selfish  interest  of  one 
class  and  against  the  interest  of  the  people  as  a 
whole,  that  here  in  this  country,  and  under  our 
institutions,  they  would  not  be  beneficial  to  all 
our  people.  So  far  from  game  laws  being  in  the 
interest  of  the  few,  they  are  emphatically  in  the 
interest  of  the  many.  The  very  rich  man  can 
stock  a  private  game  preserve,  or  journey  afar  off 


64     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

to  where  game  is  still  plentiful ;  but  it  is  only 
where  the  game  is  carefully  preserved  by  the 
state  that  the  man  of  small  means  has  any 
chance  to  enjoy  the  keen  delight  of  the  chase. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE  WHITETAIL   DEER 

The  whitetail  deer  is  now,  as  it  always  has  been, 
the  most  plentiful  and  most  widely  distributed  of 
American  big  game.  It  holds  its  own  in  the  land 
better  than  any  other  species,  because  it  is  by 
choice  a  dweller  in  the  thick  forests  and  swamps, 
the  places  around  which  the  tide  of  civilization 
flows,  leaving  them  as  islets  of  refuge  for  the  wild 
creatures  which  formerly  haunted  all  the  country. 
The  range  of  the  whitetail  is  from  the  Atlantic 
to  the  Pacific,  and  from  the  Canadian  to  the  Mex- 
ican borders,  and  somewhat  to  the  north  and  far 
to  the  south  of  these  limits.  The  animal  shows 
a  wide  variability,  both  individually  and  locally, 
within  these  confines ;  from  the  hunter's  stand- 
point it  is  not  necessary  to  try  to  determine  ex- 
actly the  weight  that  attaches  to  these  local 
variations. 

There  is  also  a  very  considerable  variation  in 
habits.  As  compared  with  the  mule-deer,  the 
whitetail  is  not  a  lover  of  the  mountains.  As 
compared  with  the  prongbuck,  it  is  not  a  lover  of 

F  65 


66     Deer  and  Antebpe  of  North  America 

the  treeless  plains.  Yet  in  the  Alleghanies  and 
the  Adirondacks,  at  certain  seasons  especially, 
and  in  some  places  at  all  seasons,  it  dwells  high 
among  the  densely  wooded  mountains,  wandering 
over  their  crests  and  sheer  sides,  and  through  the 
deep  ravines;  while  in  the  old  days  there  were 
parts  of  Texas  and  the  Indian  Territory  where  it 
was  found  in  great  herds  far  out  on  the  prairie. 
Moreover,  the  peculiar  nature  of  its  chosen  habi- 
tat, while  generally  enabling  it  to  resist  the  on- 
slaught of  man  longer  than  any  of  its  fellows, 
sometimes  exposes  it  to  speedy  extermination. 
To  the  westward  of  the  rich  bottom-lands  and 
low  prairies  of  the  Mississippi  Valley  proper,  when 
the  dry  plains  country  is  reached,  the  natural 
conditions  are  much  less  favorable  for  whitetail 
than  for  other  big  game.  The  black  bear,  which 
in  the  East  has  almost  precisely  the  same  habitat 
as  the  whitetail,  disappears  entirely  on  the  great 
plains,  and  reappears  in  the  Rockies  in  regions 
which  the  whitetail  does  not  reach.  All  over  the 
great  plains,  into  the  foot-hills  of  the  Rockies,  the 
whitetail  is  found,  but  only  in  the  thick  timber  of 
the  river  bottoms.  Throughout  the  regions  of 
the  Upper  Missouri  and  Upper  Platte,  the  Big 
Horn,  Powder,  Yellowstone,  and  Cheyenne,  over 
all  of  which  I  have  hunted,  the  whitetail  lives 
among  the  cottonwood  groves  and  dense  brush 
growth  that  fringe  the  river  beds  and  here  and 


The  Whitetail  Deer  6j 

there  extend  some  distance  up  the  mouths  of  the 
large  creeks.  In  these  places  the  whitetail  and 
the  mule-deer  may  exist  in  close  proximity ;  but 
normally  neither  invades  the  haunts  of  the  other. 
Along  the  ordinary  plains  river,  such  as  the 
Little  Missouri,  where  I  ranched  for  many  years, 
there  are  three  entirely  different  types  of  country 
through  which  a  man  passes  as  he  travels  away 
from  the  bed  of  the  river.  There  is  first  the  allu- 
vial river  bottom  covered  with  cottonwood  and 
box-elder,  together  with  thick  brush.  These  bot- 
toms may  be  a  mile  or  two  across,  or  they  may 
shrink  to  but  a  few  score  yards.  After  the  exter- 
mination of  the  wapiti,  which  roamed  everywhere, 
the  only  big  game  animal  found  in  them  was  the 
whitetail  deer.  Beyond  this  level  alluvial  bottom 
the  ground  changes  abruptly  to  bare,  rugged  hills 
or  fantastically  carved  and  shaped  Bad  Lands 
rising  on  either  side  of  the  river,  the  ravines, 
coulies,  creeks,  and  canyons  twisting  through 
them  in  every  direction.  Here  there  are  patches 
of  ash,  cedar,  pine,  and  occasionally  other  trees, 
but  the  country  is  very  rugged,  and  the  cover  very 
scanty.  This  is  the  home  of  the  mule-deer,  and, 
in  the  roughest  and  wildest  parts,  of  the  bighorn. 
The  absolutely  clear  and  sharply  defined  line  of 
demarkation  between  this  rough,  hilly  country, 
flanking  the  river,  and  the  alluvial  river  bottom, 
serves  as  an  equally  clearly  marked  line  of  de- 


68     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

markation  between  the  ranges  of  the  whitetail  and 
the  mule-deer.  This  belt  of  broken  country  may- 
be only  a  few  hundred  yards  in  width ;  or  it  may 
extend  for  a  score  of  miles  before  it  changes  into 
the  open  prairies,  the  high  plains  proper.  As 
soon  as  these  are  reached,  the  prongbuck's  do- 
main begins. 

As  the  plains  country  is  passed,  and  the  vast 
stretches  of  mountainous  region  entered,  the  river 
bottoms  become  narrower,  and  the  plains  on  which 
the  prongbuck  is  found  become  of  very  limited 
extent,  shrinking  to  high  valleys  and  plateaus, 
while  the  mass  of  rugged  foot-hills  and  mountains 
add  immensely  to  the  area  of  the  mule-deer's 
habitat. 

Given  equal  areas  of  country,  of  the  three  dif- 
ferent types  alluded  to  above,  that  in  which  the 
mule-deer  is  found  offers  the  greatest  chance  of 
success  to  the  rifle-bearing  hunter,  because  there 
is  enough  cover  to  shield  him  and  not  enough 
to  allow  his  quarry  to  escape  by  stealth  and 
hiding.  On  the  other  hand,  the  thick  river  bot- 
toms offer  him  the  greatest  difficulty.  In  conse- 
quence, where  the  areas  of  distribution  of  the  dif- 
ferent game  animals  are  about  equal,  the  mule-deer 
disappears  first  before  the  hunter,  the  prong- 
buck  next,  while  the  whitetail  holds  out  the  best 
of  all.  I  saw  this  frequently  on  the  Yellowstone, 
the  Powder,  and  the  Little  Missouri.     When  the 


The  Wbiteiail  Deer  69 

ranchman  first  came  into  this  country  the  mule- 
deer  swarmed,  and  yielded  a  far  more  certain 
harvest  to  the  hunter  than  did  either  the  prong- 
buck  or  the  whitetail.  They  were  the  first  to  be 
thinned  out,  the  prongbuck  lasting  much  better. 
The  cowboys  and  small  ranchmen,  most  of  whom 
did  not  at  the  time  have  hounds,  then  followed 
the  prongbuck;  and  this,  in  its  turn,  was  killed 
out  before  the  whitetail.  But  in  other  places  a 
slight  change  in  the  conditions  completely  re- 
versed the  order  of  destruction.  In  parts  of 
Wyoming  and  Montana  the  mountainous  region 
where  the  mule-deer  dwelt  was  of  such  vast  extent, 
and  the  few  river  bottoms  on  which  the  white- 
tail  were  found  were  so  easily  hunted,  that  the 
whitetail  was  completely  exterminated  throughout 
large  districts  where  the  mule-deer  continued  to 
abound.  Moreover,  in  these  regions  the  table- 
lands and  plains  upon  which  the  prongbuck  was 
found  were  limited  in  extent,  and  although  the 
prongbuck  outlasted  the  whitetail,  it  vanished 
long  before  the  herds  of  the  mule-deer  had  been 
destroyed  from  among  the  neighboring  mountains. 
The  whitetail  was  originally  far  less  common 
in  the  forests  of  northern  New  England  than  was 
the  moose,  for  in  the  deep  snows  the  moose  had 
a  much  better  chance  to  escape  from  its  brute 
foes  and  to  withstand  cold  and  starvation.  But 
when  man  appeared  upon  the  scene  he  followed 


70     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

the  moose  so  much  more  eagerly  than  he  followed 
the  deer  that  the  conditions  were  reversed  and  the 
moose  was  killed  out.  The  moose  thus  vanished 
entirely  from  the  Adirondacks,  and  almost  entirely 
from  Maine ;  but  the  excellent  game  laws  of  the 
latter  state,  and  the  honesty  and  efficiency  with 
which  they  have  been  executed  during  the  last 
twenty  years,  has  resulted  in  an  increase  of  moose 
during  that  time.  During  the  same  period  the 
whitetail  deer  has  increased  to  an  even  greater 
extent.  It  is  doubtless  now  more  plentiful  in  New 
York  and  New  England  than  it  was  a  quarter  of 
a  century  ago.  Stragglers  are  found  in  Connecti- 
cut, and,  what  is  still  more  extraordinary,  even 
occasionally  come  into  wild  parts  of  densely  popu- 
lated little  Rhode  Island,  —  my  authority  for  the 
last  statement  being  Mr.  C.  Grant  La  Farge.  Of 
all  our  wild  game,  the  whitetail  responds  most 
quickly  to  the  efforts  for  its  protection,  and  ex- 
cept the  wapiti,  it  thrives  best  in  semi-domes- 
tication ;  in  consequence,  it  has  proved  easy  to 
preserve  it,  even  in  such  places  as  Cape  Cod  in 
Massachusetts  and  Long  Island  in  New  York ; 
while  it  has  increased  greatly  in  Vermont,  New 
Hampshire,  and  Maine,  and  has  more  than  held 
its  own  in  the  Adirondacks.  Mr.  James  R.  Shef- 
field, of  New  York  City,  in  the  summer  of  1899, 
spent  several  weeks  on  a  fishing  trip  through 
northern  Maine.     He  kept  count  of  the  moose 


The  Wbitetail  Deer  71 

and  deer  he  saw,  and  came  across  no  less  than 
thirty-five  of  the  former  and  over  five  hundred 
and  sixty  of  the  latter ;  in  the  most  lonely  parts  of 
the  forest  deer  were  found  by  the  score,  feeding 
in  broad  daylight  on  the  edges  of  the  ponds. 
Deer  are  still  plentiful  in  many  parts  of  the  Alle- 
ghany Mountains,  from  Pennsylvania  southward, 
and  also  in  the  swamps  and  cane-brakes  of  the 
South  Atlantic  and  Gulf  states. 

Where  the  differences  in  habitat  and  climate 
are  so  great  there  are  many  changes  of  habits,  and 
some  of  them  of  a  noteworthy  kind.  Mr.  John 
A.  Mclllhenny,  of  Avery's  Island,  Louisiana,  for- 
merly a  lieutenant  in  my  regiment,  lives  in  what 
is  still  a  fine  game  country.  His  plantation  is 
in  the  delta  of  the  Mississippi,  among  the  vast 
marshes,  north  of  which  lie  the  wooded  swamps. 
Both  the  marshes  and  the  swamps  were  formerly 
literally  thronged  with  whitetail  deer,  and  the 
animals  are  still  plentiful  in  them.  Mr.  Mclll- 
henny has  done  much  deer-hunting,  always  using 
hounds.  He  informs  me  that  the  breeding  times 
are  unexpectedly  different  from  those  of  the 
northern  deer.  In  the  North,  in  different  locali- 
ties, the  rut  takes  place  in  October  or  Novem- 
ber, and  the  fawns  are  dropped  in  May  or  June. 
In  the  Louisiana  marshes  around  Avery's  Island 
the  rut  begins  early  in  July  and  the  fawns  are 
dropped  in  February.     In   the   swamps   immedi- 


72     Deer  and  Antebpe  of  North  America 

ately  north  of  these  marshes  the  dates  are  fully  a 
month  later.  The  marshes  are  covered  with  tall 
reeds  and  grass,  and  broken  by  bayous,  while 
there  are  scattered  over  them  what  are  called 
"  islands "  of  firmer  ground  overgrown  with  tim- 
ber. In  this  locality  the  deer  live  in  the  same 
neighborhood  all  the  year  round,  just  as,  for 
instance,  they  do  on  Long  Island.  So  on  the 
Little  Missouri,  in  the  neighborhood  of  my  ranch, 
they  lived  in  exactly  the  same  localities  through- 
out the  entire  year.  Occasionally  they  would 
shift  from  one  river  bottom  to  another,  or  go  a 
few  miles  up  or  down  stream  because  of  scarcity 
of  food.     But  there  was  no  general  shifting. 

On  the  Little  Missouri,  in  one  place  where  they 
were  not  molested,  I  knew  a  particular  doe  and 
fawn  with  whose  habits  I  became  quite  intimately 
acquainted.  When  the  moon  was  full  they  fed 
chiefly  by  night,  and  spent  most  of  the  day  lying 
in  the  thick  brush.  When  there  was  little  or  no 
moon  they  would  begin  to  feed  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, then  take  a  siesta,  and  then  —  what  struck 
me  as  most  curious  of  all  —  would  go  to  a  little 
willow-bordered  pool  about  noon  to  drink,  feed- 
ing for  some  time  both  before  and  after  drinking. 
After  another  siesta  they  would  come  out  late  in 
the  afternoon  and  feed  until  dark. 

In  the  Adirondacks  the  deer  often  alter  their 
habits  completely  at  different  seasons.     Soon  after 


The  Wbitetail  Deer  73 

the  fawns  are  born  they  come  down  to  the  water's 
edge,  preferring  the  neighborhood  of  the  lakes, 
but  also  haunting  the  stream  banks.  The  next 
three  months,  during  the  hot  weather,  they  keep 
very  close  to  the  water,  and  get  a  large  proportion 
of  their  food  by  wading  in  after  the  lilies  and  other 
aquatic  plants.  Where  they  are  much  hunted,  they 
only  come  to  the  water's  edge  after  dark,  but  in  re- 
gions where  they  are  little  disturbed  they  are  quite 
as  often  diurnal  in  their  habits.  I  have  seen  dozens 
feeding  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  lake,  some  of  them 
two  or  three  hundred  yards  out  in  shallow  places, 
up  to  their  bellies ;  and  this  after  sunrise,  or  two  or 
three  hours  before  sunset.  Before  September  the 
deer  cease  coming  to  the  water,  and  go  back  among 
the  dense  forests  and  on  the  mountains.  There 
is  no  genuine  migration,  as  in  the  case  of  the  mule- 
cfeer,  from  one  big  tract  to  another,  and  no  entire 
desertion  of  any  locality.  But  the  food  supply 
which  drew  the  animals  to  the  water's  edge  during 
the  summer  months  shows  signs  of  exhaustion 
toward  fall ;  the  delicate  water-plants  have  van- 
ished, the  marsh-grass  is  dying,  and  the  lilies  are 
less  succulent.  An  occasional  deer  still  wanders 
along  the  shores  or  out  into  the  lake,  but  most  of 
them  begin  to  roam  the  woods,  eating  the  berries 
and  the  leaves  and  twig  ends  of  the  deciduous 
trees,  and  even  of  some  of  the  conifers,  although  a 
whitetail  is  fond  of  grazing,  especially  upon  the 


74     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

tips  of  the  grass  itself.  I  have  seen  moose  feed- 
ing on  the  tough  old  lily  stems  and  wading  after 
them  when  the  ice  had  skimmed  the  edges  of  the 
pool.  But  the  whitetail  has  usually  gone  back 
into  the  woods  long  before  freezing  time. 

From  Long  Island  south  there  is  not  enough 
snow  to  make  the  deer  alter  their  habits  in  the 
winter.  As  soon  as  the  rut  is  over,  which  in  dif- 
ferent localities  may  be  from  October  to  December, 
whitetail  are  apt  to  band  together  —  more  apt  than 
at  any  other  season,  although  even  then  they  are 
often  found  singly  or  in  small  parties.  While 
nursing,  the  does  have  been  thin,  and  at  the  end 
of  the  rut  the  bucks  are  gaunt,  with  their  necks 
swollen  and  distended.  From  that  time  on  bucks 
and  does  alike  put  on  flesh  very  rapidly  in  prepa- 
ration for  the  winter.  Where  there  is  no  snow,  or 
not  enough  to  interfere  with  their  travelling,  they 
continue  to  roam  anywhere  through  the  woods 
and  across  the  natural  pastures  and  meadows,  eat- 
ing twigs,  buds,  nuts,  and  the  natural  hay  which 
is  cured  on  the  stalk. 

In  the  northern  woods  they  form  yards  during 
the  winter.  These  yards  are  generally  found  in  a 
hardwood  growth  which  offers  a  supply  of  winter 
food,  and  consist  simply  of  a  tangle  of  winding 
trails  beaten  out  through  the  snow  by  the  inces- 
sant passing  and  repassing  of  the  animal.  The 
yard  merely  enables  the  deer  to  move  along  the 


The  Wbitetail  Deer  75 

various  paths  in  order  to  obtain  food.  If  there 
are  many  deer  together,  the  yards  may  connect 
by  interlacing  paths,  so  that  a  deer  can  run  a  con- 
siderable distance  through  them.  Often,  however, 
each  deer  will  yard  by  itself,  as  food  is  the  prime 
consideration,  and  a  given  locality  may  only  have 
enough  to  support  a  single  animal.  When  the 
snows  grow  deep  the  deer  is  wholly  unable  to 
move,  once  the  yard  is  left,  and  hence  it  is  abso- 
lutely at  the  mercy  of  a  man  on  snowr-shoes,  or  of 
a  cougar  or  a  wolf,  if  found  at  such  times.  The 
man  on  snow-shoes  can  move  very  comfortably ; 
and  the  cougar  and  the  wolf,  although  hampered 
by  the  snow,  are  not  rendered  helpless  like  the 
deer.  I  have  myself  scared  a  deer  out  of  a  yard, 
and  seen  it  flounder  helplessly  in  a  great  drift  be- 
fore it  had  gone  thirty  rods.  When  I  came  up 
close  it  ploughed  its  way  a  very  short  distance 
through  the  drifts,  making  tremendous  leaps. 
But  as  the  snow  was  over  six  feet  deep,  so  that 
the  deer  sank  below  the  level  of  the  surface  at 
each  jump,  and  yet  could  not  get  its  feet  on  the 
solid  ground,  it  became  so  exhausted  that  it  fell 
over  on  its  side  and  bleated  in  terror  as  I  came  up  ; 
after  looking  at  it  I  passed  on.  Hide  hunters 
and  frontier  settlers  sometimes  go  out  after  the 
deer  on  snow-shoes  when  there  is  a  crust,  and 
hence  this  method  of  killing  is  called  crusting. 
It  is  simple  butchery,  for  the  deer  cannot,  as  the 


76     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

moose  does,  cause  its  pursuer  a  chase  which  may 
last  days.  No  self-respecting  man  would  follow 
this  method  of  hunting  save  from  the  necessity  of 
having  meat. 

In  very  wild  localities  deer  sometimes  yard  on 
the  ice  along  the  edges  of  lakes,  eating  off  all  the 
twigs  and  branches,  whether  of  hardwood  trees  or 
of  conifers,  which  they  can  reach. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  rut  the  does  flee  from 
the  bucks,  which  follow  them  by  scent  at  full 
speed.  The  whitetail  buck  rarely  tries  to  form  a 
herd  of  does,  though  he  will  sometimes  gather 
two  or  three.  The  mere  fact  that  his  tactics 
necessitate  a  long  and  arduous  chase  after  each 
individual  doe  prevents  his  organizing  herds  as 
the  wapiti  bull  does.  Sometimes  two  or  three 
bucks  will  be  found  strung  out  one  behind  the 
other,  following  the  same  doe.  The  bucks  wage 
desperate  battle  among  themselves  during  this 
season,  coming  together  with  a  clash,  and  then 
pushing  and  straining  for  an  hour  or  two  at  a 
time,  with  their  mouths  open,  until  the  weakest 
gives  way.  As  soon  as  one  abandons  the  fight 
he  flees  with  all  possible  speed,  and  usually 
escapes  unscathed.  While  head  to  head  there 
is  no  opportunity  for  a  disabling  thrust,  but  if, 
in  the  effort  to  retreat,  the  beaten  buck  gets 
caught,  he  may  be  killed.  Owing  to  the  char- 
acter of  the  antlers  whitetail  bucks  are  peculiarly 


THE   WHITETAIL   IN    FLIGHT 


The  Whitetail  Deer  77 

apt  to  get  them  interlocked  in  such  a  fight,  and 
if  the  efforts  of  the  two  beasts  fail  to  disentangle 
them,  both  ultimately  perish  by  starvation.  I 
have  several  times  come  across  a  pair  of  skulls 
with  interlocked  antlers.  The  same  thing  occurs, 
though  far  less  frequently,  to  the  mule-deer  and 
even  the  wapiti. 

The  whitetail  is  the  most  beautiful  and  grace- 
ful of  all  our  game  animals  when  in  motion.  I 
have  never  been  able  to  agree  with  Judge  Caton 
that  the  mule-deer  is  clumsy  and  awkward  in  his 
gait.  I  suppose  all  such  terms  are  relative. 
Compared  to  the  moose  or  caribou  the  mule-deer 
is  light  and  quick  in  his  movements,  and  to  me 
there  is  something  very  attractive  in  the  poise 
and  power  with  which  one  of  the  great  bucks 
bounds  off,  all  four  legs  striking  the  earth 
together  and  shooting  the  body  upward  and  for- 
ward as  if  they  were  steel  springs.  But  there 
can  be  no  question  as  to  the  infinitely  superior 
grace  and  beauty  of  the  whitetail  when  he  either 
trots  or  runs.  The  mule-deer  and  blacktail  bound, 
as  already  described.  The  prongbuck  gallops 
with  an  even  gait,  and  so  does  the  bighorn,  when 
it  happens  to  be  caught  on  a  flat ;  but  the  white- 
tail  moves  with  an  indescribable  spring  and  buoy- 
ancy. If  surprised  close  up,  and  much  terrified, 
it  simply  runs  away  as  hard  as  it  can,  at  a  gait 
not  materially  different  from  that  of  any  other 


78     Deer  and  Antelope  of  Nortb  America 

game  animal  under  like  circumstances,  while  its 
head  is  thrust  forward  and  held  down,  and  the 
tail  is  raised  perpendicularly.  But  normally  its 
mode  of  progression,  whether  it  trots  or  gallops, 
is  entirely  unique.  In  trotting,  the  head  and  tail 
are  both  held  erect,  and  the  animal  throws  out 
its  legs  with  a  singularly  proud  and  free  motion, 
bringing  the  feet  well  up,  while  at  every  step 
there  is  an  indescribable  spring.  In  the  canter  or 
gallop  the  head  and  tail  are  also  held  erect,  the 
flashing  white  brush  being  very  conspicuous. 
Three  or  four  low,  long,  marvellously  springy 
bounds  are  taken,  and  then  a  great  leap  is  made 
high  in  the  air,  which  is  succeeded  by  three 
or  four  low  bounds,  and  then  by  another  high 
leap.  A  whitetail  going  through  the  brush  in 
this  manner  is  a  singularly  beautiful  sight.  It 
has  been  my  experience  that  they  are  not  usually 
very  much  frightened  by  an  ordinary  slow  track- 
hound,  and  I  have  seen  a  buck  play  along  in  front 
of  one,  alternately  trotting  and  cantering,  head 
and  flag  up,  and  evidently  feeling  very  little  fear. 
To  my  mind  the  chase  of  the  whitetail,  as  it 
must  usually  be  carried  on,  offers  less  attraction 
than  the  chase  of  any  other  kind  of  our  large 
game.  But  this  is  a  mere  matter  of  taste,  and 
such  men  as  Judge  Caton  and  Mr.  George  Bird 
Grinnell  have  placed  it  above  all  others  as  a  game 
animal.     Personally  I  feel  that  the  chase  of  any 


The  IVbitetail  Deer  79 

animal  has  in  it  two  chief  elements  of  attraction. 
The  first  is  the  chance  given  to  be  in  the  wilder- 
ness; to  see  the  sights  and  hear  the  sounds  of 
wild  nature.  The  second  is  the  demand  made 
by  the  particular  kind  of  chase  upon  the  qualities 
of  manliness  and  hardihood.  As  regards  the  first, 
some  kinds  of  game,  of  course,  lead  the  hunter 
into  particularly  remote  and  wild  localities;  and 
the  farther  one  gets  into  the  wilderness,  the 
greater  is  the  attraction  of  its  lonely  freedom. 
Yet  to  camp  out  at  all  implies  some  measure  of 
this  delight.  The  keen,  fresh  air,  the  breath  of 
the  pine  forests,  the  glassy  stillness  of  the  lake 
at  sunset,  the  glory  of  sunrise  among  the  moun- 
tains, the  shimmer  of  the  endless  prairies,  the 
ceaseless  rustle  of  the  cottonwood  leaves,  where 
the  wagon  is  drawn  up  on  the  low  bluff  of  the 
shrunken  river  —  all  these  appeal  intensely  to  any 
man,  no  matter  what  may  be  the  game  he  happens 
to  be  following.  But  there  is  a  wide  variation, 
and  indeed  contrast,  in  the  qualities  called  for 
in  the  chase  itself,  according  as  one  quarry  or 
another  is  sought. 

The  qualities  that  make  a  good  soldier  are,  in 
large  part,  the  qualities  that  make  a  good  hunter. 
Most  important  of  all  is  the  ability  to  shift  for 
one's  self,  the  mixture  of  hardihood  and  resource- 
fulness which  enables  a  man  to  tramp  all  day 
in  the  right  direction,  and,  when  night  comes,  to 


Bo     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

make  the  best  of  whatever  opportunities  for 
shelter  and  warmth  may  be  at  hand.  Skill  in 
the  use  of  the  rifle  is  another  trait ;  quickness  in 
seeing  game,  another ;  ability  to  take  advantage 
of  cover,  yet  another ;  while  patience,  endurance, 
keenness  of  observation,  resolution,  good  nerves, 
and  instant  readiness  in  an  emergency,  are  all 
indispensable  to  a  really  good  hunter. 

The  chase  of  an  animal  should  rank  according 
as  it  calls  for  the  exercise  in  a  high  degree  of  a 
large  number  of  these  qualities.  The  grizzly  is 
almost  our  only  dangerous  game,  and  under 
certain  conditions  shooting  the  grizzly  calls  for 
considerable  courage  on  the  part  of  the  hunter. 
Disregarding  these  comparatively  rare  occasions, 
the  chase  of  mountain  game,  especially  the  big- 
horn, demands  more  hardihood,  power  of  endur- 
ance, and  moral  and  physical  soundness  than 
any  other  kind  of  sport,  and  so  must  come  first. 
The  wapiti  and  mule-deer  rank  next,  for  they  too 
must  be  killed  by  stalking  as  a  result  of  long 
tramps  over  very  rough  ground.  To  kill  a  moose 
by  still  hunting  is  a  feat  requiring  a  high  degree 
of  skill,  and  entailing  severe  fatigue.  When  game 
is  followed  on  horseback,  it  means  that  the  suc- 
cessful hunter  must  ride  well  and  boldly. 

The  whitetail  is  occasionally  found  where  it 
yields  a  very  high  quality  of  sport.  But  normally 
it  lives  in  regions  where  it  is  extremely  difficult  to 


The  Whitetail  Deer  St 

kill  it  legitimately,  as  the  wapiti  and  mule-deer  are 
killed,  and  yet  comparatively  easy  to  kill  it  under 
circumstances  which  make  no  demand  for  any 
particular  prowess  on  the  part  of  the  hunter.  It 
is  far  more  difficult  to  still  hunt  successfully  in 
the  dense  brushy  timber  frequented  by  the  white- 
tail  than  in  the  open  glades,  the  mountains,  and 
the  rocky  hills,  through  which  the  wapiti  and 
mule-deer  wander.  The  difficulty  arises,  how- 
ever, because  the  chief  requirement  is  stealth, 
noiselessness.  The  man  who  goes  out  into  the 
hills  for  a  mule-deer  must  walk  hard  and  far, 
must  be  able  to  bear  fatigue,  and  possibly  thirst 
and  hunger,  must  have  keen  eyes,  and  be  a  good 
shot.  He  does  not  need  to  display  the  extraordi- 
nary power  of  stealthy  advance  which  is  necessary 
to  the  man  who  would  creep  up  to  and  kill  a  white- 
tail  in  thick  timber.  Now,  the  qualities  of  hardi- 
hood and  endurance  are  better  than  the  quality 
of  stealth,  and  though  all  three  are  necessary  in 
both  kinds  of  chase,  yet  it  is  the  chase  of  the  mule- 
deer  which  most  develops  the  former,  and  the 
chase  of  the  whitetail  which  most  develops  the 
latter.  When  the  woods  are  bare  and  there  is 
some  snow  on  the  ground,  however,  still  hunting 
the  whitetail  becomes  not  only  possible,  but  a 
singularly  manly  and  attractive  kind  of  sport. 
Where  the  whitetail  can  be  followed  with  horse 
and  hound,  the  sport  is  of  course  of  a  very  high 


8i     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

order.  To  be  able  to  ride  through  woods  and 
over  rough  country  at  full  speed,  rifle  or  shot- 
gun in  hand,  and  then  to  leap  off  and  shoot  at  a 
running  object,  is  to  show  that  one  has  the  quali- 
ties which  made  the  cavalry  of  Forrest  so  formi- 
dable in  the  Civil  War.  There  could  be  no  better 
training  for  the  mounted  rifleman,  the  most  effi- 
cient type  of  modern  soldier. 

By  far  the  easiest  way  to  kill  the  whitetail  is 
in  one  or  other  of  certain  methods  which  entail 
very  little  work  or  skill  on  the  part  of  the  hunter. 
The  most  noxious  of  these,  crusting  in  the  deep 
snows,  has  already  been  spoken  of.  No  sports- 
man worthy  of  the  name  would  ever  follow  so 
butcherly  a  method.  Fire  hunting  must  also 
normally  be  ruled  out.  It  is  always  mere  murder 
if  carried  on  by  a  man  who  sits  up  at  a  lick,  and 
is  not  much  better  where  the  hunter  walks  through 
the  fields  —  not  to  mention  the  fact  that  on  such 
a  walk  he  is  quite  as  apt  to  kill  stock  as  to  kill  a 
deer.  But  fire  hunting  from  a  boat,  or  jacking, 
as  it  is  called,  though  it  entails  absolutely  no  skill 
in  the  hunter,  and  though  it  is,  and  ought  to  be, 
forbidden,  as  it  can  best  be  carried  on  in  the 
season  when  nursing  does  are  particularly  apt  to 
be  the  victims,  nevertheless  has  a  certain  charm 
of  its  own.  The  first  deer  I  ever  killed,  when 
a  boy,  was  obtained  in  this  way,  and  I  have 
always   been   glad  to  have  had   the  experience, 


The  Wbitetail  Deer  83 

though  I  have  never  been  willing  to  repeat  it. 
I  was  at  the  time  camped  out  in  the  Adiron- 
dacks. 

Two  or  three  of  us,  all  boys  of  fifteen  or  six- 
teen, had  been  enjoying  what  was  practically  our 
first  experience  in  camping  out,  having  gone  out 
with  two  guides,  Hank  Martin  and  Mose  Sawyer, 
from  Paul  Smith's  on  Lake  St.  Regis.  My  brother 
and  cousin  were  fond  of  fishing  and  I  was  not,  so 
I  was  deputed  to  try  to  bring  in  a  deer.  I  had 
a  double-barrelled  12-bore  gun,  French  pin-fire, 
with  which  I  had  industriously  collected  "  speci- 
mens "  on  a  trip  to  Egypt  and  around  Oyster  Bay, 
Long  Island  ;  except  for  three  or  four  enthralling, 
but  not  oversuccessful,  days,  after  woodcock  and 
quail,  around  the  latter  place,  I  had  done  no  game 
shooting.  As  to  every  healthy  boy  with  a  taste 
for  outdoor  life,  the  northern  forests  were  to  me 
a  veritable  land  of  enchantment.  We  were  en- 
camped by  a  stream  among  the  tall  pines,  and  I 
had  enjoyed  everything ;  poling  and  paddling 
the  boat,  tramping  through  the  woods,  the  cries 
of  chickaree  and  chipmunk,  of  jay,  woodpecker, 
chickadee,  nuthatch,  and  cross-bill,  which  broke 
the  forest  stillness ;  and,  above  all,  the  great 
reaches  of  sombre  woodland  themselves.  The 
heart-shaped  footprints  which  showed  where  the 
deer  had  come  down  to  drink  and  feed  on 
the  marshy  edges  of   the  water  made  my  veins 


84    Deer  and  Antelope  of  Nortb  America 

thrill ;  and  the  nights  around  the  flickering  camp- 
fire  seemed  filled  with  romance. 

My  first  experiment  in  jacking  was  a  failure. 
The  jack,  a  bark  lantern,  was  placed  upon  a  stick 
in  the  bow  of  the  boat,  and  I  sat  in  a  cramped 
huddle  behind  it,  while  Mose  Sawyer  plied  the 
paddle  with  noiseless  strength  and  skill  in  the 
stern.  I  proved  unable  to  respond  even  to 
the  very  small  demand  made  upon  me,  for  when 
we  actually  did  come  upon  a  deer  I  failed  to  see 
it  until  it  ran,  when  I  missed  it ;  and  on  the  way 
back  capped  my  misfortune  by  shooting  at  a  large 
owl  which  perched  on  a  log  projecting  into  the 
water,  looking  at  the  lantern  with  two  glaring 
eyes. 

All  next  day  I  was  miserably  conscious  of  the 
smothered  disfavor  of  my  associates,  and  when 
night  fell  was  told  I  would  have  another  chance 
to  redeem  myself.  This  time  we  started  across 
a  carry,  the  guide  carrying  the  light  boat,  and 
launched  it  in  a  quiet  little  pond  about  a  mile  off. 
Dusk  was  just  turning  into  darkness  when  we 
reached  the  edge  of  the  little  lake,  which  was  per- 
haps a  mile  long  by  three-quarters  of  a  mile  across, 
with  indented  shores.  We  did  not  push  off  for  half 
an  hour  or  so,  until  it  was  entirely  dark ;  and  then 
for  a  couple  of  hours  we  saw  no  deer.  Never- 
theless, I  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  ghostly,  mys- 
terious, absolutely  silent  night  ride  over  the  water. 


The  IVbitetail  Deer  85 

Not  the  faintest  splash  betrayed  the  work  of  the 
paddler.  The  boat  glided  stealthily  alongshore, 
the  glare  of  the  lantern  bringing  out  for  one  mo- 
ment every  detail  of  the  forest  growth  on  the 
banks,  which  the  next  second  vanished  into  abso- 
lute blackness.  Several  times  we  saw  muskrats 
swimming  across  the  lane  of  light  cut  by  the  lan- 
tern through  the  darkness,  and  two  or  three  times 
their  sudden  plunging  and  splashing  caused  my 
heart  to  leap.  Once  when  we  crossed  the  lake 
we  came  upon  a  loon  floating  buoyantly  right  out 
in  the  middle  of  it  It  stayed  until  we  were  within 
ten  yards,  so  that  I  could  see  the  minute  outlines 
of  the  feathers  and  every  movement  of  the  eye. 
Then  it  swam  off,  but  made  no  cry.  At  last,  while 
crossing  the  mouth  of  a  bay  we  heard  a  splashing 
sound  among  the  lilies  inshore,  which  even  my 
untrained  ears  recognized  as  different  from  any 
of  the  other  noises  we  had  yet  heard,  and  a  jarring 
motion  of  the  paddle  showed  that  the  paddler 
wished  me  to  be  on  the  alert.  Without  any 
warning  the  course  of  the  boat  was  suddenly 
changed,  and  I  was  aware  that  we  were  moving 
stern  foremost  Then  we  swung  around,  and  I 
could  soon  make  out  that  we  were  going  down 
the  little  bay.  The  forest-covered  banks  nar- 
rowed ;  then  the  marsh  at  the  end  was  lighted  up, 
and  on  its  hither  edge,  knee-deep  among  the  water- 
lilies,  appeared  the  figure  of  a  yearling  buck  still 


86     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

in  the  red.  It  stood  motionless,  gazing  at  the 
light  with  a  curiosity  wholly  unmixed  with  alarm, 
and  at  the  shot  wheeled  and  fell  at  the  water's 
edge.  We  made  up  our  mind  to  return  to  camp 
that  night,  as  it  was  before  midnight.  I  carried 
the  buck  and  the  torch,  and  the  guide  the  boat, 
and  the  mile  walk  over  the  dim  trail,  occasionally 
pitching  forward  across  a  stump  or  root,  was  a 
thing  to  be  remembered.  It  was  my  first  deer, 
and  I  was  very  glad  to  get  it ;  but  although  only 
a  boy,  I  had  sense  enough  to  realize  that  it  was 
not  an  experience  worth  repeating.  The  paddler 
in  such  a  case  deserves  considerable  credit,  but 
the  shooter  not  a  particle,  even  aside  from  the 
fact  to  which  I  have  already  alluded,  that  in  too 
many  cases  such  shooting  results  in  the  killing  of 
nursing  does.  No  matter  how  young  a  sportsman 
is,  if  he  has  a  healthy  mind,  he  will  not  long  take 
pleasure  in  any  method  of  hunting  in  which  some- 
body else  shows  the  skill  and  does  the  work  so 
that  his  share  is  only  nominal.  The  minute  that 
sport  is  carried  on  on  these  terms  it  becomes  a 
sham,  and  a  sham  is  always  detrimental  to  all  who 
take  part  in  it. 

Whitetail  are  comparatively  easily  killed  with 
hounds,  and  there  are  very  many  places  where 
this  is  almost  the  only  way  they  can  be  killed  at 
all.  Formerly  in  the  Adirondacks  this  method 
of  hunting  was  carried  on    under  circumstances 


The  Wbitetail  Deer  87 

which  rendered  those  who  took  part  in  it  objects 
of  deserved  contempt.  The  sportsman  stood  in 
a  boat  while  his  guides  put  out  one  or  two  hounds 
in  the  chosen  forest  side.  After  a  longer  or 
shorter  run  the  deer  took  to  the  water ;  for  white- 
tail  are  excellent  swimmers,  and  when  pursued  by 
hounds  try  to  shake  them  off  by  wading  up  or 
down  stream,  or  by  swimming  across  a  pond,  and, 
if  tired,  come  to  bay  in  some  pool  or  rapid.  Once 
the  unfortunate  deer  was  in  the  water,  the  guide 
rowed  the  boat  after  it.  If  it  was  yet  early  in  the 
season,  and  the  deer  was  still  in  the  red  summer 
coat,  he  would  sink  when  shot,  and  therefore  the 
guide  would  usually  take  hold  of  its  tail  before 
the  would-be  Nimrod  butchered  it.  If  the  deer 
was  in  the  blue,  the  carcass  would  float,  so  it  was 
not  necessary  to  do  anything  quite  so  palpably 
absurd.  But  such  sport,  so  far  as  the  man  who 
did  the  shooting  was  concerned,  had  not  one  re- 
deeming feature.  The  use  of  hounds  has  now 
been  prohibited  by  law. 

In  regions  where  there  are  no  lakes,  and  where 
the  woods  are  thick,  the  shooters  are  stationed  at 
runways  by  which  it  is  supposed  the  deer  may 
pass  when  the  hounds  are  after  them.  Under 
such  circumstances  the  man  has  to  show  the  skill 
requisite  to  hit  the  running  quarry,  and  if  he  uses 
the  rifle,  this  means  that  he  must  possess  a  certain 
amount  of  address  in  handling  the  weapon.     But 


88     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

no  other  quality  is  called  for,  and  so  even  this 
method,  though  often  the  only  possible  one  (and 
it  may  be  necessary  to  return  to  it  in  the  Adiron- 
dack^) can  never  rank  high  in  the  eyes  of  men 
who  properly  appreciate  what  big  game  hunting 
should  be.  It  is  the  usual  method  of  killing  deer 
on  Long  Island,  during  the  three  or  four  days  of 
each  year  when  they  can  be  legally  hunted.  The 
deer  are  found  along  the  south  and  centre  of  the 
eastern  half  of  the  island ;  they  were  nearly  exter- 
minated a  dozen  years  ago,  but  under  good  laws 
they  have  recently  increased  greatly.  The  exten- 
sive grounds  of  the  various  sportsmen's  clubs, 
and  the  forests  of  scrub-oak  in  the  scantily  settled 
inland  region,  give  them  good  harbors  and  sanctu- 
aries. On  the  days  when  it  is  legal  to  shoot  them, 
hundreds  of  hunters  turn  out  from  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  indeed  from  all  the  island  and  from 
New  York.  On  such  a  day  it  is  almost  impossible 
to  get  any  work  done  ;  for  the  sport  is  most  demo- 
cratic, and  is  shared  by  everybody.  The  hunters 
choose  their  position  before  dawn,  lying  in  lines 
wherever  deer  are  likely  to  pass,  while  the  hounds 
are  turned  into  every  patch  of  thick  cover.  A 
most  lively  day  follows,  the  fusillade  being  terrific ; 
some  men  are  invariably  shot,  and  a  goodly  num- 
ber of  deer  are  killed,  mostly  by  wily  old  hunters 
who  kill  ducks  and  quail  for  a  living  in  the  fall. 
When   the   horse   is   used   together   with    the 


The  Whitetail  Deer  89 

hounds  the  conditions  are  changed.  To  ride  a 
horse  over  rough  country  after  game  always 
implies  hardihood  and  good  horsemanship,  and 
therefore  makes  the  sport  a  worthy  one.  In  very 
open  country,  —  in  such  country,  for  instance,  as 
the  whitetail  formerly  frequented  both  in  Texas 
and  the  Indian  Territory,  —  the  horseman  could 
ride  at  the  tail  of  the  pack  until  the  deer  was 
fairly  run  down.  But  nowadays  I  know  of  no 
place  where  this  is  possible,  for  the  whitetail's 
haunts  are  such  as  to  make  it  impracticable  for 
any  rider  to  keep  directly  behind  the  hounds. 
What  he  must  do  is  to  try  to  cut  the  game  off 
by  riding  from  point  to  point.  He  then  leaps 
off  the  horse  and  watches  his  chance  for  a  shot. 
This  is  the  way  in  which  Mr.  Mclllhenny  has 
done  most  of  his  deer  hunting,  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  his  Louisiana  plantation. 

Around  my  ranch  I  very  rarely  tried  to  still- 
hunt  whitetail,  because  it  was  always  easier  to  get 
mule-deer  or  prongbuck,  if  I  had  time  to  go  off 
for  an  all-day's  hunt.  Occasionally,  however,  we 
would  have  at  the  ranch  hounds,  usually  of  the 
old  black-and-tan  southern  type,  and  then  if  we 
needed  meat,  and  there  was  not  time  for  a  hunt 
back  in  the  hills,  we  would  turn  out  and  hunt  one 
or  two  of  the  river  bottoms  with  these  hounds. 
If  I  rode  off  to  the  prairies  or  the  hills  I  went 
alone,  but  if  the  quarry  was  a  whitetail,  our  chance 


90     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

of  success  depended  upon  our  having  a  sufficient 
number  of  guns  to  watch  the  different  passes  and 
runways.  Accordingly,  my  own  share  of  the  chase 
was  usually  limited  to  the  fun  of  listening  to  the 
hounds,  and  of  galloping  at  headlong  speed  from 
one  point  where  I  thought  the  deer  would  not 
pass  to  some  other,  which,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it 
did  not  pass  either.  The  redeeming  feature  of 
the  situation  was  that  if  I  did  get  a  shot,  I  almost 
always  got  my  deer.  Under  ordinary  circum- 
stances to  merely  wound  a  deer  is  worse  than  not 
hitting  it ;  but  when  there  are  hounds  along  they 
are  certain  to  bring  the  wounded  animal  to  bay, 
and  so  on  these  hunts  we  usually  got  venison. 

Of  course,  I  occasionally  did  get  a  whitetail 
when  I  was  alone,  whether  with  the  hounds  or 
without  them.  There  were  whitetail  on  the  very 
bottom  on  which  the  ranch-house  stood,  as  well 
as  on  the  bottom  opposite,  and  on  those  to  the 
right  and  left  up  and  down  stream.  Occasionally 
I  have  taken  the  hounds  out  alone,  and  then  as 
they  chevied  the  whitetail  around  the  bottom, 
have  endeavored  by  rapid  running  on  foot  or  on 
horseback  to  get  to  some  place  from  which  I 
could  obtain  a  shot.  The  deer  knew  perfectly 
well  that  the  hounds  could  not  overtake  them, 
and  they  would  usually  do  a  great  deal  of  sneak- 
ing round  and  round  through  the  underbrush  and 
cottonwoods  before  they  finally  made   up   their 


The  Wbitetail  Deer  91 

minds  to  leave  the  bottom.  On  one  occasion  a 
buck  came  sneaking  down  a  game  trail  through 
the  buck  brush  where  I  stood,  going  so  low  that 
I  could  just  see  the  tips  of  his  antlers,  and  though 
I  made  desperate  efforts  I  was  not  able  to  get 
into  a  position  from  which  I  could  obtain  a  shot. 
On  another  occasion,  while  I  was  looking  intently 
into  a  wood  through  which  I  was  certain  a  deer 
would  pass,  it  deliberately  took  to  the  open  ground 
behind  me,  and  I  did  not  see  it  until  it  was  just 
vanishing.  Normally,  the  end  of  my  efforts  was 
that  the  deer  went  off  and  the  hounds  disappeared 
after  it,  not  to  return  for  six  or  eight  hours.  Once 
or  twice  things  favored  me ;  I  happened  to  take 
the  right  turn  or  go  in  the  right  direction,  and 
the  deer  happened  to  blunder  past  me ;  and  then 
I  returned  with  venison  for  supper.  Two  or 
three  times  I  shot  deer  about  nightfall  or  at 
dawn,  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the 
ranch,  obtaining  them  by  sneaking  as  noiselessly 
as  possible  along  the  cattle  trails  through  the 
brush  and  timber,  or  by  slipping  along  the  edge 
of  the  river  bank.  Several  times  I  saw  deer 
while  I  was  sitting  on  the  piazza  or  on  the  door- 
step of  the  ranch,  and  on  one  occasion  I  stepped 
back  into  the  house,  got  the  rifle,  and  dropped 
the  animal  from  where  I  stood. 

On  yet  other   occasions    I   obtained   whitetail 
which  lived  not  on  the  river  bottoms  but  among 


92     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

the  big  patches  of  brush  and  timber  in  the  larger 
creeks.  When  they  were  found  in  such  country 
I  hunted  them  very  much  as  I  hunted  the  mule- 
deer,  and  usually  shot  one  when  I  was  expecting 
as  much  to  see  a  mule-deer  as  a  whitetail.  When 
the  game  was  plentiful  I  would  often  stay  on  my 
horse  until  the  moment  of  obtaining  the  shot, 
especially  if  it  was  in  the  early  morning  or  late 
evening.  My  method  then  was  to  ride  slowly 
and  quietly  down  the  winding  valleys  and  across 
the  spurs,  hugging  the  bank,  so  that  if  deer  were 
feeding  in  the  open,  I  would  get  close  up  before 
either  of  us  saw  the  other.  Sometimes  the  deer 
would  halt  for  a  moment  when  it  saw  me,  and 
sometimes  it  would  bound  instantly  away.  In 
either  case  my  chance  lay  in  the  speed  with 
which  I  could  jump  off  the  horse  and  take  my 
shot.  Even  in  favorable  localities  this  method 
was  of  less  avail  with  whitetail  than  mule-deer, 
because  the  former  were  so  much  more  apt  to 
skulk. 

As  soon  as  game  became  less  plentiful  my 
hunting  had  to  be  done  on  foot.  My  object  was 
to  be  on  the  hunting-ground  by  dawn,  or  else  to 
stay  out  there  until  it  grew  too  dark  to  see  the 
sights  of  my  rifle.  Often  all  I  did  was  to  keep 
moving  as  quietly  as  possible  through  likely 
ground,  ever  on  the  alert  for  the  least  trace  of 
game;  sometimes  I  would  select  a  lookout  and 


The  Wbitetail  Deer  93 

carefully  scan  a  likely  country  to  see  if  I  could  not 
detect  something  moving.  On  one  occasion  I  ob- 
tained an  old  whitetail  buck  by  the  simple  exercise 
of  patience.  I  had  twice  found  him  in  a  broad 
basin,  composed  of  several  coulies,  all  running 
down  to  form  the  head  of  a  big  creek,  and  all  of 
them  well  timbered.  He  dodged  me  on  both 
occasions,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would 
spend  a  whole  day  in  watching  for  him  from  a 
little  natural  ambush  of  sage  brush  and  cedar  on 
a  high  point  which  overlooked  the  entire  basin. 
I  crept  up  to  my  ambush  with  the  utmost  caution 
early  in  the  morning,  and  there  I  spent  the  entire 
day,  with  my  lunch  and  a  water-bottle,  continually 
scanning  the  whole  region  most  carefully  with 
the  glasses.  The  day  passed  less  monotonously 
than  it  sounds,  for  every  now  and  then  I  would 
catch  a  glimpse  of  wild  life ;  once  a  fox,  once  a 
coyote,  and  once  a  badger ;  while  the  little  chip- 
munks had  a  fine  time  playing  all  around  me.  At 
last,  about  mid-afternoon,  I  suddenly  saw  the  buck 
come  quietly  out  of  the  dense  thicket  in  which  he 
had  made  his  midday  bed,  and  deliberately  walk 
up  a  hillside  and  lie  down  in  a  thin  clump  of  ash 
where  the  sun  could  get  at  him — for  it  was  in 
September,  just  before  the  rut  began.  There  was 
no  chance  of  stalking  him  in  the  place  he  had 
chosen,  and  all  I  could  do  was  to  wait.  It  was 
nearly  sunset  before  he  moved  again,  except  that 


94     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

I  occasionally  saw  him  shift  his  head.  Then  he 
got  up  and  after  carefully  scrutinizing  all  the 
neighborhood,  moved  down  into  a  patch  of  fairly 
thick  brush,  where  I  could  see  him  standing  and 
occasionally  feeding,  all  the  time  moving  slowly 
up  the  valley.  I  now  slipped  most  cautiously 
back  and  trotted  nearly  a  mile  until  I  could  come 
up  behind  one  of  the  ridges  bounding  the  valley 
in  which  he  was.  The  wind  had  dropped,  and  it 
was  almost  absolutely  still  when  I  crawled  flat  on 
my  face  to  the  crest,  my  hat  in  my  left  hand,  my 
rifle  in  my  right.  There  was  a  big  sage  bush  con- 
veniently near,  and  under  this  I  peered.  There 
was  a  good  deal  of  brush  in  the  valley  below,  and 
if  I  had  not  known  that  the  buck  was  there,  I  would 
never  have  discovered  him.  As  it  was,  I  watched 
for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  had  about  made  up 
my  mind  that  he  must  have  gone  somewhere  else, 
when  a  slight  movement  nearly  below  me  attracted 
my  attention,  and  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  him, 
nearly  three  hundred  yards  off,  moving  quietly 
along  by  the  side  of  a  little  dry  watercourse  which 
was  right  in  the  middle  of  the  brush.  I  waited 
until  he  was  well  past,  and  then  again  slipped 
back  with  the  utmost  care,  and  ran  on  until  I  was 
nearly  opposite  the  head  of  the  coulie,  when  I 
again  approached  the  ridge  line.  Here  there  was 
no  sage  brush,  only  tufts  of  tall  grass,  which  were 
stirring  in  the  little  breeze  which  had  just  sprung 


The  IV bit et ail  Deer  95 

up  —  fortunately  in  the  right  direction.  Taking 
advantage  of  a  slight  inequality  in  the  soil,  I 
managed  to  get  behind  one  of  these  tufts,  and 
almost  immediately  saw  the  buck.  Toward  the 
head  of  the  coulie  the  brush  had  become  scanty 
and  low,  and  he  was  now  walking  straight  for- 
ward, evidently  keeping  a  sharp  lookout.  The 
sun  had  just  set.  His  course  took  him  past  me 
at  a  distance  of  eighty  yards.  When  directly 
opposite  I  raised  myself  on  my  elbows,  drawing 
up  the  rifle,  which  I  had  shoved  ahead  of  me. 
The  movement  of  course  caught  his  eye  at  once ; 
he  halted  for  one  second  to  look  around  and  see 
what  it  was,  and  during  that  second  I  pulled  the 
trigger.  Away  he  went,  his  white  flag  switching 
desperately,  and  though  he  galloped  over  the  hill, 
I  felt  he  was  mine.  However,  when  I  got  to  the 
top  of  the  rise  over  which  he  had  gone,  I  could 
not  see  him,  and  as  there  was  a  deep  though 
narrow  coulie  filled  with  brush  on  the  other  side, 
I  had  a  very  ugly  feeling  that  I  might  have  lost 
him,  in  spite  of  the  quantity  of  blood  he  had  left 
along  his  trail.  It  was  getting  dark,  and  I  plunged 
quickly  into  the  coulie.  Usually  a  wounded  deer 
should  not  be  followed  until  it  has  had  time  to  grow 
stiff,  but  this  was  just  one  of  the  cases  where  the 
rule  would  have  worked  badly ;  in  the  first  place, 
because  darkness  was  coming  on,  and  in  the  next 
place,   because   the   animal   was    certain    to   die 


96     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

shortly,  and  all  that  I  wanted  was  to  see  where 
he  was.  I  followed  his  trail  into  the  coulie,  and 
expected  to  find  that  he  had  turned  down  it,  but 
a  hurried  examination  in  the  fading  light  showed 
me  that  he  had  taken  the  opposite  course,  and  I 
scrambled  hastily  out  on  the  other  side,  and 
trotted  along,  staring  into  the  brush,  and  now 
and  then  shouting  or  throwing  in  a  clod  of  earth. 
When  nearly  at  the  head  there  was  a  crackling 
in  the  brush,  and  out  burst  the  wounded  buck. 
He  disappeared  behind  a  clump  of  elms,  but  he 
had  a  hard  hill  to  go  up,  and  the  effort  was  too 
much  for  him.  When  I  next  saw  him  he  had 
halted,  and  before  I  could  fire  again  down  hfc 
came. 

On  another  occasion  I  spied  a  whole  herd  of 
whitetail  feeding  in  a  natural  meadow,  right  out 
in.  the  open,  in  mid-afternoon,  and  was  able  to  get 
up  so  close  that  when  I  finally  shot  a  yearling 
buck  (which  was  one  of  the  deer  farthest  away 
from  me,  there  being  no  big  buck  in  the  outfit) 
the  remaining  deer,  all  does  and  fawns,  scattered 
in  every  direction,  some  galloping  right  past  me 
in  their  panic.  Once  or  twice  I  was  able  to  per- 
form a  feat  of  which  I  had  read,  but  in  which  I 
scarcely  believed.  This  was  to  creep  up  to  a  deer 
while  feeding  in  the  open,  by  watching  when  it 
shook  its  tail,  and  then  remaining  motionless.  I 
cannot  say  whether  the  habit  is  a  universal  one, 


The  Whitetail  Deer  97 

but  on  two  occasions  at  least  I  was  able  thus  to 
creep  up  to  the  feeding  deer,  because  before  lift- 
ing its  head  it  invariably  shook  its  tail,  thereby 
warning  me  to  stay  without  moving  until  it  had 
lifted  its  head,  scrutinized  the  landscape,  and  again 
lowered  its  head  to  graze.  The  eyesight  of  the 
whitetail,  as  compared  with  that  of  the  prong- 
horn  antelope,  is  poor.  It  notes  whatever  is  in 
motion,  but  it  seems  unable  to  distinguish  clearly 
anything  that  is  not  in  motion.  On  the  occa- 
sions in  question  no  antelope  that  I  have  ever 
seen  would  have  failed  to  notice  me  at  once  and 
to  take  alarm.  But  the  whitetail,  although  it 
scrutinized  me  narrowly,  while  I  lay  motionless 
with  my  head  toward  it,  seemed  in  each  case  to 
think  that  I  must  be  harmless,  and  after  a  while  it 
would  go  on  feeding.  In  one  instance  the  ani- 
mal fed  over  a  ridge  and  walked  off  before  I 
could  get  a  shot ;  in  the  other  instance  I  killed  it. 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE  PRONGHORN  ANTELOPE 

The  prongbuck  or  pronghorn  antelope,  known 
throughout  its  range  simply  as  antelope,  is  a  very 
extraordinary  creature,  being  the  only  hollow-horn 
ruminant  known  which  annually  sheds  its  horns 
as  deer  do  their  antlers.  Of  course,  only  the  horn 
sheaths  are  shed,  leaving  underneath  the  soft 
and  bristle-haired  new  horn  already  partially 
formed  on  the  bone  cores.  The  shedding  takes 
place  in  the  late  fall.  After  a  few  days  the  new 
horns  harden,  and  in  consequence  there  is  only  a 
very  brief  time  during  which  any  signs  are  left  of 
the  shedding.  This  is  the  reason  why  the  fact 
was  so  long  doubted.  The  hair  of  the  antelope  is 
very  peculiar,  being  stiff,  coarse,  and  springy. 
It  is  rather  loosely  attached  to  the  skin,  so  that 
the  hide  is  not  valuable.  When  the  animal  is 
alarmed  or  excited  it  has  the  power  of  erecting 
all  the  brilliantly  white  hair  on  the  rump,  so  as 
to  greatly  add  to  its  already  existing  conspicu- 
ousness. 

The  prongbuck  is  an  animal  of  the  open 
plains.     In  the  old  days  it  was  found  as  soon  as 

98 


The  Prongborn  Antelope  99 

the  westward-moving  traveller  left  the  green  bot- 
tom-lands of  the  Mississippi,  and  from  thence 
across  to  the  dry,  open  valleys  of  California,  and 
northward  to  Canada  and  southward  into  Mexico. 
It  has  everywhere  been  gradually  thinned  out,  and 
has  vanished  altogether  from  what  were  formerly 
the  extreme  easterly  and  westerly  limits  of  its 
range.  In  dealing  with  the  mule-deer  I  have 
already  explained  how  unequal  the  rates  of  exter- 
mination of  the  different  kinds  of  big  game  have 
been  in  different  localities.  Each  kind  of  big 
game  has  had  its  own  peculiar  habitat  in  which  it 
throve  best,  and  each  has  also  been  found  more 
or  less  plentifully  in  other  regions  where  the  cir- 
cumstances were  less  favorable ;  and  in  these 
comparatively  unfavorable  regions  it  early  tends 
to  disappear  before  the  advance  of  man.  In  con- 
sequence, where  the  ranges  of  the  different  game 
animals  overlap  and  are  intertwined,  one  will  dis- 
appear first  in  one  locality,  and  another  will  dis- 
appear first  where  the  conditions  are  different. 
Thus  the  whitetail  deer  had  thrust  forward  along 
the  very  narrow  river  bottoms  into  the  domain  of 
the  mule-deer  and  the  prongbuck  among  the 
foot-hills  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  in  these 
places  it  was  exterminated  from  the  narrow  strips 
which  it  inhabited  long  before  the  mule-deer 
vanished  from  the  high  hills,  or  the  prongbuck 
from    the   great  open    plains.      But   along  great 


ioo    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

portions  of  the  Missouri  there  are  plenty  of  white- 
tails  yet  left  in  the  river  bottoms,  while  the  mule- 
deer  that  once  dwelt  in  the  broken  hills  behind 
them,  and  the  prongbuck  which  lived  on  the 
prairie  just  back  of  these  bluffs,  have  both  disap- 
peared. In  the  same  way  the  mule-deer  and 
the  prongbuck  are  often  found  almost  intermin- 
gled through  large  regions  in  which  plains,  hills, 
and  mountains  alternate.  If  such  a  region  is 
mainly  mountainous,  but  contains  a  few  valleys 
and  tablelands,  the  prongbuck  is  sure  to  vanish 
from  the  latter  before  the  mule-deer  vanishes  from 
the  broken  country.  But  if  the  region  is  one 
primarily  of  plains,  with  here  and  there  rows  of 
rocky  hills  in  which  the  mule-deer  is  found,  the 
latter  is  killed  off  long  before  the  prongbuck  can 
be  hunted  out  of  the  great  open  stretches.  The 
same  is  true  of  the  pronghorn  and  the  wapiti.  The 
size  and  value  of  the  wapiti  make  it  an  object  of 
eager  persecution  on  the  part  of  hunters.  But 
as  it  can  live  in  the  forest-clad  fastnesses  of  the 
Rockies,  into  which  settlement  does  not  go,  it 
outlasts  over  great  regions  the  pronghorn,  whose 
abode  is  easily  penetrated  by  sheep  and  cattle  men. 
Under  anything  like  even  conditions,  however, 
the  prongbuck,  of  course,  outlasts  the  wapiti. 
This  was  the  case  on  the  Little  Missouri.  On 
that  stream  the  bighorn  also  outlasted  the  wapiti. 
In    1 88 1    wapiti  were  still   much  more  plentiful 


5  ;»'■*:■   *  C3-, H.I 


The  Prongborn  Ani elope  101 

than  bighorns.  Within  the  next  decade  they 
had  almost  totally  disappeared,  while  the  bighorn 
was  still  to  be  found  ;  I  shot  one  and  saw  others 
in  1893,  at  which  time  I  had  not  authentic  in- 
formation of  a  single  wapiti  remaining  anywhere 
on  the  river  in  my  neighborhood,  although  it  is 
possible  that  one  or  two  still  lurked  in  some 
out-of-the-way  recess.  In  Colorado  at  one  time 
the  bighorn  was  killed  out  much  more  rapidly 
than  the  wapiti ;  but  of  late  years  in  that  state 
the  rapidity  of  destruction  of  the  latter  has  in- 
creased far  beyond  what  is  true  in  the  case  of  the 
former. 

I  mention  these  facts  partly  because  they  are 
of  interest  in  themselves,  but  chiefly  because  they 
tend  to  explain  the  widely  different  opinions  ex- 
pressed by  competent  observers  about  what  seem 
superficially  to  be  similar  facts.  It  cannot  be  too 
often  repeated  that  allowance  must  be  made  for 
the  individual  variability  of  the  traits  and  charac- 
ters of  animals  of  the  same  species,  and  especially 
of  the  same  species  under  different  circumstances 
and  in  different  localities;  and  allowance  must 
also  be  made  for  the  variability  of  the  individual 
factor  in  the  observers  themselves.  Many  seem- 
ingly contradictory  observations  of  the  habits  of 
deer,  wapiti,  and  prongbuck  will  be  found  in  books 
by  the  best  hunters.  Take  such  questions  as  the 
keenness  of  sight  of  the  deer  as  compared  with 


io2    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

the  prongbuck,  and  of  the  pugnacity  of  the  wapiti, 
both  actual  and  relative,  and  a  wide  difference  of 
opinion  will  be  found  in  three  such  standard  works 
as  Dodge's  "  The  Hunting-grounds  of  the  Great 
West,"  Caton's  "  Deer  and  Antelope  of  America," 
and  the  contributions  of  Mr.  Grinnell  to  the  "  Cen- 
tury Book  of  Sports."  Sometimes  the  difference 
will  be  in  mere  matters  of  opinion,  as,  for  instance, 
in  the  belief  as  to  the  relative  worth  of  the  sport 
furnished  by  the  chase  of  the  different  creatures; 
but  sometimes  there  is  a  direct  conflict  of  fact. 
Colonel  Dodge,  for  instance,  has  put  it  upon  record 
that  the  wapiti  is  an  exceedingly  gentle  animal, 
less  dangerous  than  a  whitetail  or  blacktail  buck 
in  a  close  encounter,  and  that  the  bulls  hardly  ever 
fight  among  themselves.  My  own  experience  leads 
me  to  traverse  in  the  most  emphatic  manner  every 
one  of  these  conclusions,  and  all  hunters  whom 
I  have  met  feel  exactly  as  I  do  ;  yet  no  one  would 
question  for  a  moment  Colonel  Dodge's  general 
competency  as  an  observer.  In  the  same  way  Mr. 
Grinnell  has  a  high  opinion  of  the  deer's  keenness 
of  sight.  Judge  Caton  absolutely  disagrees  with 
him,  and  my  own  experience  tends  to  agree  with 
that  of  the  Judge  —  at  least  to  the  extent  of  plac- 
ing the  deer's  vision  far  below  that  of  the  prong- 
buck  and  even  that  of  the  bighorn,  and  only  on  a 
par  with  that  of  the  wapiti.  Yet  Mr.  Grinnell  is 
an  unusually  competent  observer,  whose  opinion 


The  Prongborn  Antelope  103 

on  any  such  subject  is  entitled  to  unqualified  re- 
spect. 

Difference  in  habits  may  be  due  simply  to  dif- 
ference of  locality,  or  to  the  need  of  adaptation  to 
new  conditions.  The  prongbuck's  habits  about 
migration  offer  examples  of  the  former  kind  of 
difference.  Over  portions  of  its  range  the  prong- 
buck  is  not  migratory  at  all.  In  other  parts  the 
migrations  are  purely  local.  In  yet  other  regions 
the  migrations  are  continued  for  great  distances, 
immense  multitudes  of  the  animals  going  to  and 
fro  in  the  spring  and  fall  along  well-beaten  tracks. 
I  know  of  one  place  in  New  Mexico  where  the 
pronghorn  herds  are  tenants  of  certain  great  plains 
throughout  the  entire  year.  I  know  another 
region  in  northwestern  Colorado  where  the  very 
few  prongbucks  still  left,  though  they  shift  from 
valley  to  valley,  yet  spend  the  whole  year  in  the 
same  stretch  of  rolling,  barren  country.  On  the 
Little  Missouri,  however,  during  the  eighties  and 
early  nineties,  there  was  a  very  distinct  though 
usually  local  migration.  Before  the  Black  Hills  had 
been  settled  they  were  famous  wintering  places  for 
the  antelope,  which  swarmed  from  great  distances 
to  them  when  cold  weather  approached ;  those  which 
had  summered  east  of  the  Big  Missouri  actually 
swam  the  river  in  great  herds,  on  their  journey  to 
the  Hills.  The  old  hunters  around  my  ranch  in- 
sisted that  formerly  the  prongbuck   had  for  the 


104    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

most  part  travelled  from  the  Little  Missouri  Bad 
Lands  into  the  Black  Hills  for  the  winter. 

When  I  was  ranching  on  that  river,  however, 
this  custom  no  longer  obtained,  for  the  Black 
Hills  were  too  well  settled,  and  the  herds  of  prong- 
buck  that  wintered  there  were  steadily  diminish- 
ing in  numbers.  At  that  time,  from  1883  to  1896, 
the  seasonal  change  in  habits,  and  shift  of  posi- 
tion, of  the  prongbucks  were  well  marked.  As 
soon  as  the  new  grass  sprang  they  appeared  in 
great  numbers  upon  the  plains.  They  were  espe- 
cially fond  of  the  green,  tender  blades  that  came 
up  where  the  country  had  been  burned  over.  If 
the  region  had  been  devastated  by  prairie  fires  in 
the  fall,  the  next  spring  it  was  certain  to  contain 
hundreds  and  thousands  of  prongbucks.  All 
through  the  summer  they  remained  out  on  these 
great  open  plains,  coming  to  drink  at  the  little 
pools  in  the  creek  beds,  and  living  where  there 
was  no  shelter  of  any  kind.  As  winter  approached 
they  began  to  gather  in  bands.  Some  of  these 
bands  apparently  had  regular  wintering  places  to 
the  south  of  us,  in  Pretty  Buttes  and  beyond  ;  and 
close  to  my  ranch,  at  the  crossing  of  the  creek 
called  Beaver,  there  were  certain  trails  which  these 
antelope  regularly  travelled,  northward  in  the 
spring  and  southward  in  the  fall.  But  other  bands 
would  seek  out  places  in  the  Bad  Lands  near  by, 
gathering  together  on  some  succession  of  plateaus 


The  Prongborn  Antelope  105 

which  were  protected  by  neighboring  hills  from 
the  deep  drifts  of  snow.  Here  they  passed  the 
winter,  on  short  commons,  it  is  true  (they  graze, 
not  browsing  like  deer),  but  without  danger  of 
perishing  in  the  snow-drifts.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  the  skin  hunters  discovered  such  a  wintering 
place,  they  were  able  to  butcher  practically  the 
entire  band,  if  they  so  desired,  as  the  prongbucks 
were  always  most  reluctant  to  leave  such  a  chosen 
ground. 

Normally  the  prongbuck  avoids  both  broken 
ground  and  timber.  It  is  a  queer  animal,  with 
keen  senses,  but  with  streaks  of  utter  folly  in  its 
character.  Time  and  again  I  have  known  bands 
rush  right  by  me,  when  I  happened  to  surprise 
them  feeding  near  timber  or  hills,  and  got  between 
them  and  the  open  plains.  The  animals  could 
have  escaped  without  the  least  difficulty  if  they 
had  been  willing  to  go  into  the  broken  country, 
or  through  even  a  few  rods  of  trees  and  brush  ; 
and  yet  they  preferred  to  rush  madly  by  me  at 
close  range,  in  order  to  get  out  to  their  favorite 
haunts.  But  nowadays  there  are  certain  localities 
where  the  prongbucks  spend  a  large  part  of  their 
time  in  the  timber  or  in  rough,  hilly  country,  feeding 
and  bringing  up  their  young  in  such  localities. 

Typically,  however,  the  prongbuck  is  pre- 
eminently a  beast  of  the  great  open  plains,  eat- 
ing their  harsh,  dry  pasturage,  and  trusting  to  its 


106    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

own  keen  senses  and  speed  for  its  safety.  All 
the  deer  are  fond  of  skulking ;  the  whitetail  pre- 
eminently so.  The  prongbuck,  on  the  contrary, 
never  endeavors  to  elude  observation.  Its  sole 
aim  is  to  be  able  to  see  its  enemies,  and  it  cares 
nothing  whatever  about  its  enemies  seeing  it.  Its 
coloring  is  very  conspicuous,  and  is  rendered 
still  more  so  by  its  habit  of  erecting  the  white 
hair  on  its  rump.  It  has  a  very  erect  carriage, 
and  when  it  thinks  itself  in  danger  it  always 
endeavors  to  get  on  some  crest  or  low  hill  from 
which  it  can  look  all  about.  The  great  bulging 
eyes,  situated  at  the  base  of  the  horns,  scan  the 
horizon  far  and  near  like  twin  telescopes.  They 
pick  out  an  object  at  such  a  distance  that  it  would 
entirely  escape  the  notice  of  a  deer.  When  sus- 
picious, they  have  a  habit  of  barking,  uttering  a 
sound  something  like  "  kau,"  and  repeating  it 
again  and  again,  as  they  walk  up  and  down, 
endeavoring  to  find  out  if  danger  lurks  in  the 
unusual  object.  They  are  extremely  curious,  and 
in  the  old  days  it  was  often  possible  to  lure  them 
toward  the  hunter  by  waving  a  red  handkerchief 
to  and  fro  on  a  stick,  or  even  by  lying  on  one's 
back  and  kicking  the  legs.  Nowadays,  however, 
there  are  very  few  localities  indeed  in  which  they 
are  sufficiently  unsophisticated  to  make  it  worth 
while  trying  these  time-honored  tricks  nf  the  long- 
vanished  trappers  and  hunters. 


The  Prongbom  Antelope  107 

Along  the  Little  Missouri  the  fawns,  sometimes 
one  and  sometimes  two  in  number,  were  dropped 
in  May  or  early  in  June.  At  that  time  the  ante- 
lope were  usually  found  in  herds  which  the  mother 
did  not  leave  until  she  was  about  to  give  birth  to 
the  fawn.  During  the  first  few  days  the  fawn's 
safety  is  to  be  found  only  in  its  not  attracting 
attention.  During  this  time  it  normally  lies  per- 
fectly flat  on  the  ground,  with  its  head  outstretched, 
and  makes  no  effort  to  escape.  While  out  on  the 
spring  round-up  I  have  come  across  many  of  these 
fawns.  Once,  in  company  with  several  cowboys, 
I  was  riding  behind  a  bunch  of  cattle  which,  as 
we  hurried  them,  spread  out  in  open  order  ahead 
of  us.  Happening  to  cast  down  my  eyes  I  saw 
an  antelope  fawn  directly  ahead  of  me.  The 
bunch  of  cattle  had  passed  all  around  it,  but  it 
made  not  the  slightest  sign,  not  even  when  I 
halted,  got  off  my  pony,  and  took  it  up  in  my 
arms.  It  was  useless  to  take  it  to  camp  and  try 
to  rear  it,  and  so  I  speedily  put  it  down  again. 
Scanning  the  neighborhood  I  saw  the  doe  hang- 
ing about  some  half  a  mile  off,  and  when  I  looked 
back  from  the  next  divide  I  could  see  her  gradu- 
ally drawing  near  to  the  fawn. 

If  taken  when  very  young,  antelope  make  cun- 
ning and  amusing  pets,  and  I  have  often  seen 
them  around  the  ranches.  There  was  one  in  the 
ranch  of  a  Mrs.  Blank  who  had  a  station  on  the 


108    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

Deadwood  stage  line  some  eighteen  years  ago. 
She  was  a  great  worker  in  buckskin,  and  I  got 
her  to  make  me  the  buckskin  shirt  I  still  use. 
There  was  an  antelope  fawn  that  lived  at  the 
house,  wandering  wherever  it  wished ;  but  it 
would  not  permit  me  to  touch  it.  As  I  sat  in- 
side the  house  it  would  come  in  and  hop  up  on 
a  chair,  looking  at  me  sharply  all  the  while.  No 
matter  how  cautiously  I  approached,  I  could  never 
put  my  hand  upon  it,  as  at  the  last  moment  it 
would  spring  off  literally  as  quick  as  a  bird  would 
fly.  One  of  my  neighbors  on  the  Little  Missouri, 
Mr.  Howard  Eaton,  had  at  one  time  upon  his 
ranch  three  little  antelope  whose  foster  mother 
was  a  sheep,  and  who  were  really  absurdly  tame. 
I  was  fond  of  patting  them  and  of  giving  them 
crusts,  and  the  result  was  that  they  followed  me 
about  so  closely  that  I  had  to  be  always  on  the 
lookout  to  see  that  I  did  not  injure  them.  They 
were  on  excellent  terms  with  the  dogs,  and  were 
very  playful.  It  was  a  comic  sight  to  see  them 
skipping  and  hopping  about  the  old  ewe  when 
anything  happened  to  alarm  her  and  she  started 
off  at  a  clumsy  waddle.  Nothing  could  surpass 
the  tameness  of  the  antelope  that  are  now  under 
Mr.  Hornaday's  care  at  the  Bronx  Zoological 
Garden  in  New  York.  The  last  time  that  I 
visited  the  garden  some  repairs  were  being  made 
inside  the  antelope  enclosure,  and  a  dozen  work- 


The  Prongborn  Antelope  109 

men  had  gone  in  to  make  them.  The  antelope 
regarded  the  workmen  with  a  friendliness  and 
curiosity  untempered  by  the  slightest  touch  of 
apprehension.  When  the  men  took  off  their 
coats  the  little  creatures  would  nose  them  over 
to  see  if  they  contained  anything  edible,  and  they 
would  come  close  up  and  watch  the  men  plying 
the  pick  with  the  utmost  interest.  Mr.  Hornaday 
took  us  inside,  and  they  all  came  up  in  the  most 
friendly  manner.  One  or  two  of  the  bucks  would 
put  their  heads  against  our  legs  and  try  to  push 
us  around,  but  not  roughly.  Mr.  Hornaday  told 
me  that  he  was  having  great  difficulty,  exactly  as 
with  the  mule-deer,  in  acclimatizing  the  antelope, 
especially  as  the  food  was  so  different  from  what 
they  were  accustomed  to  in  their  native  haunts. 

The  wild  fawns  are  able  to  run  well  a  few  days 
after  they  are  born.  They  then  accompany  the 
mother  everywhere.  Sometimes  she  joins  a  band 
of  others;  more  often  she  stays  alone  with  her 
fawn,  and  perhaps  one  of  the  young  of  the  previ- 
ous year,  until  the  rut  begins.  Of  all  game  the 
prongbuck  seems  to  me  the  most  excitable  during 
the  rut.  The  males  run  the  does  much  as  do  the 
bucks  of  the  mule  and  whitetail  deer.  If  there 
are  no  does  present,  I  have  sometimes  watched  a 
buck  run  to  and  fro  by  himself.  The  first  time  I 
saw  this  I  was  greatly  interested,  and  could  form 
no  idea  of  what  the  buck  was  doing.     He  was  by 


no    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

a  creek  bed  in  a  slight  depression  or  shallow  val- 
ley, and  was  grazing  uneasily.  After  a  little  while 
he  suddenly  started  and  ran  just  as  hard  as  he 
could,  off  in  a  straight  direction,  nearly  away  from 
me.  I  thought  that  somehow  or  other  he  had 
discovered  my  presence  ;  but  he  suddenly  wheeled 
and  came  back  to  the  original  place,  still  running 
at  his  utmost  speed.  Then  he  halted,  moved  about 
with  the  white  hairs  on  his  rump  outspread,  and 
again  dashed  off  at  full  speed,  halted,  wheeled, 
and  came  back.  Two  or  three  times  he  did  this, 
and  let  me  get  up  very  close  to  him  before  he  dis- 
covered me.  I  was  too  much  interested  in  what 
he  was  doing  to  desire  to  shoot  him. 

In  September,  sometimes  not  earlier  than  Octo- 
ber, the  big  bucks  begin  to  gather  the  does  into 
harems.  Each  buck  is  then  constantly  on  the 
watch  to  protect  his  harem  from  outsiders,  and 
steal  another  doe  if  he  can  get  a  chance.  I  have 
seen  a  comparatively  young  buck  who  had  ap- 
propriated a  doe,  hustle  her  hastily  out  of  the 
country  as  soon  as  he  saw  another  antelope  in 
the  neighborhood ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  a 
big  buck,  already  with  a  good  herd  of  does,  will  do 
his  best  to  appropriate  any  other  that  comes  in 
sight.  The  bucks  fight  fearlessly  but  harmlessly 
among  themselves,  locking  their  horns  and  then 
pushing  as  hard  as  they  can. 

Although  their  horns  are  not  very  formidable 


The  Prongbom  Antebpe  in 

weapons,  they  are  bold  little  creatures,  and  if 
given  a  chance  will  stand  at  bay  before  either 
hound  or  coyote.  A  doe  will  fight  most  gallantly 
for  her  fawn,  and  is  an  overmatch  for  a  single 
coyote,  but  of  course  she  can  do  but  little  against 
a  large  wolf.  The  wolves  are  occasionally  very 
destructive  to  the  herds.  The  cougar,  however, 
which  is  a  much  worse  foe  than  the  wolf  to  deer 
and  mountain  sheep,  can  but  rarely  molest  the 
prongbuck,  owing  to  the  nature  of  the  latter's 
haunts.  Eagles,  on  occasion,  take  the  fawns  as 
they  do  those  of  deer. 

I  have  always  been  very  fond  of  the  chase  of  the 
prongbuck.  While  I  lived  on  my  ranch  on  the 
Little  Missouri  it  was,  next  to  the  mule-deer, 
the  game  which  I  most  often  followed,  and  on  the 
long  wagon  trips  which  I  occasionally  took  from 
my  ranch  to  the  Black  Hills,  to  the  Big  Horn 
Mountains,  or  into  eastern  Montana,  prongbuck 
venison  was  our  usual  fresh  meat,  save  when  we 
could  kill  prairie-chickens  and  ducks  with  our 
rifles,  which  was  not  always  feasible.  In  my 
mind  the  prongbuck  is  always  associated  with  the 
open  prairies  during  the  spring,  summer,  or  the 
early  fall.  It  has  happened  that  I  have  generally 
pursued  the  bighorn  in  bitter  weather ;  and  when 
we  laid  in  our  stock  of  winter  meat,  mule-deer  was 
our  usual  game.  Though  I  have  shot  prongbuck 
in  winter,  I  never  liked  to  do  so,  as  I  felt  the  ani- 


112 


Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 


mals  were  then  having  a  sufficiently  hard  struggle 
for  existence  anyhow.  But  in  the  spring  the  meat 
of  the  prongbuck  was  better  than  that  of  any  other 
game,  and,  moreover,  there  was  not  the  least  dan- 
ger of  mistaking  the  sexes,  and  killing  a  doe  acci- 
dentally, and  accordingly  I  rarely  killed  anything 
but  pronghorns  at  that  season.  In  those  days 
we  never  got  any  fresh  meat,  whether  on  the 
ranch  or  while  on  the  round-up  or  on  a  wagon 
trip,  unless  we  shot  it,  and  salt  pork  became  a 
most  monotonous  diet  after  a  time. 

Occasionally  I  killed  the  prongbuck  in  a  day's 
hunt  from  my  ranch.  If  I  started  with  the 
intention  of  prongbuck  hunting,  I  always  went 
on  horseback ;  but  twice  I  killed  them  on  foot 
when  I  happened  to  run  across  them  by  accident 
while  looking  for  mule-deer.  I  shall  always  re- 
member one  of  these  occasions.  I  was  alone  in 
the  Elkhorn  ranch-house  at  the  time,  my  fore- 
man and  the  only  cowpuncher  who  was  not  on 
the  round-up  having  driven  to  Medora,  some  forty 
miles  away,  in  order  to  bring  down  the  foreman's 
wife  and  sister,  who  were  going  to  spend  the  sum- 
mer with  him.  It  was  the  fourth  day  of  his  ab- 
sence. I  expected  him  in  the  evening  and  wanted 
to  have  fresh  meat,  and  so  after  dinner  I  shoul- 
dered my  rifle  and  strolled  off  through  the  hills. 
It  was  too  early  in  the  day  to  expect  to  see  any- 
thing, and  my  intention  was  simply  to  walk  out 


THE   ANTELOPE   AT   HOME 


The  Prongborn  Antelope  113 

until  I  was  five  or  six  miles  from  the  ranch,  and 
then  work  carefully  home  through  a  likely  coun- 
try toward  sunset,  as  by  this  arrangement  I  would 
be  in  a  good  game  region  at  the  very  time  that 
the  animals  were  likely  to  stir  abroad.  It  was  a 
glaring,  late-spring  day,  and  in  the  hot  sun  of 
mid-afternoon  I  had  no  idea  that  anything  would 
be  moving,  and  was  not  keeping  a  very  sharp  look- 
out. After  an  hour  or  two's  steady  tramping  I 
came  into  a  long,  narrow  valley,  bare  of  trees  and 
brushwood,  and  strolled  along  it,  following  a 
cattle  trail  that  led  up  the  middle.  The  hills 
rose  steeply  into  a  ridge  crest  on  each  side,  sheer 
clay  shoulders  breaking  the  mat  of  buffalo-grass 
which  elsewhere  covered  the  sides  of  the  valley  as 
well  as  the  bottom.  It  was  very  hot  and  still,  and 
I  was  paying  but  little  attention  to  my  surround- 
ings, when  my  eye  caught  a  sudden  movement  on 
the  ridge  crest  to  my  right,  and,  dropping  on  one 
knee  as  I  wheeled  around,  I  saw  the  head  and 
neck  of  a  prongbuck  rising  above  the  crest.  The 
animal  was  not  above  a  hundred  yards  off,  and 
stood  motionless  as  it  stared  at  me.  At  the  crack 
of  the  rifle  the  head  disappeared  ;  but  as  I  sprang 
clear  of  the  smoke  I  saw  a  cloud  of  dust  rise  on 
the  other  side  of  the  ridge  crest,  and  felt  con- 
vinced that  the  quarry  had  fallen.  I  was  right. 
On  climbing  the  ridge  crest  I  found  that  on  the 
other  side  it  sank  abruptly  in  a  low  cliff  of  clay, 


ii4    Deer  and  Antebpe  of  North  America 

and  at  the  foot  of  this,  thirty  feet  under  me,  the 
prongbuck  lay  with  its  neck  broken.  After  dress- 
ing it  I  shouldered  the  body  entire,  thinking  that 
I  should  like  to  impress  the  newcomers  by  the 
sight  of  so  tangible  a  proof  of  my  hunting  prow- 
ess as  a  whole  prongbuck  hanging  up  in  the  cot- 
tonwoods  by  the  house.  As  it  was  a  well-grown 
buck  the  walk  home  under  the  hot  sun  was  one 
of  genuine  toil. 

The  spot  where  I  ran  across  this  prongbuck 
was  miles  away  from  the  nearest  plains,  and  it 
was  very  unusual  to  see  one  in  such  rough  coun- 
try. In  fact,  the  occurrence  was  wholly  excep- 
tional; just  as  I  once  saw  three  bighorn  rams, 
which  usually  keep  to  the  roughest  country,  delib- 
erately crossing  the  river  bottom  below  my  ranch, 
and  going  for  half  a  mile  through  the  thick  Cot- 
tonwood timber.  Occasionally,  however,  parties 
of  prongbuck  came  down  the  creek  bottoms  to 
the  river.  Once  I  struck  a  couple  of  young  bucks 
in  the  bottom  of  a  creek  which  led  to  the  Chim- 
ney Butte  ranch-house,  and  stalked  them  without 
difficulty;  for  prongbuck  are  conspicuous  and 
make  no  effort  to  hide,  and  where  there  is  good 
cover  even  their  sharp  eyes  do  not  avail  them. 
On  another  occasion  several  does  and  fawns, 
which  we  did  not  molest,  spent  some  time  on 
what  we  called  "the  corral  bottom,"  which  was 
two  or  three  miles  above   the   ranch-house.     In 


The  Prongbom  Antelope  115 

the  middle  of  this  bottom  we  had  built  a  corral 
for  better  convenience  in  branding  the  calves  when 
the  round-up  came  near  our  ranch  —  as  the  bottom 
on  which  the  ranch-house  stood  was  so  thickly 
wooded  as  to  make  it  difficult  to  work  cattle 
thereon.  The  does  and  fawns  hung  around  the 
corral  bottom  for  some  little  time,  and  showed 
themselves  very  curious  and  by  no  means  shy. 

When  I  went  from  the  ranch  for  a  day's  prong- 
buck  hunting  of  set  purpose,  I  always  rode  a  stout 
horse  and  started  by  dawn.  The  prongbucks  are 
almost  the  only  game  that  can  be  hunted  as  well 
during  the  heat  of  the  day  as  at  any  other  time. 
They  occasionally  lie  down  for  two  or  three  hours 
about  noon  in  some  hollow  where  they  cannot  be 
seen,  but  usually  there  is  no  place  where  they  are 
sure  they  can  escape  observation  even  when  rest- 
ing ;  and  when  this  is  the  case  they  choose  a  some- 
what conspicuous  station  and  trust  to  their  own 
powers  of  observation,  exactly  as  they  do  when 
feeding.  There  is  therefore  no  necessity,  as  with 
deer,  of  trying  to  strike  them  at  dawn  or  dusk. 
The  reason  why  I  left  the  ranch  before  sunrise 
and  often  came  back  long  after  dark  was  because 
I  had  to  ride  at  least  a  dozen  miles  to  get  out  to 
the  ground  and  a  dozen  to  get  back,  and  if  after 
industrious  walking  I  failed  at  first  to  find  my 
game,  I  would  often  take  the  horse  again  and 
ride  for  an  hour  or  two  to  get  into  new  country. 


n6    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

Prongbuck  water  once  a  day,  often  travelling  great 
distances  to  or  from  some  little  pool  or  spring. 
Of  course,  if  possible,  I  liked  to  leave  the  horse 
by  such  a  pool  or  spring.  On  the  great  plains  to 
which  I  used  to  make  these  excursions  there  was 
plenty  of  water  in  early  spring,  and  it  would  often 
run,  here  and  there,  in  the  upper  courses  of  some 
of  the  creeks  —  which,  however,  usually  contained 
running  water  only  when  there  had  been  a  cloud- 
burst or  freshet.  As  the  season  wore  on  the 
country  became  drier  and  drier.  Water  would 
remain  only  in  an  occasional  deep  hole,  and  few 
springs  were  left  in  which  there  was  so  much  as 
a  trickle.  In  a  strange  country  I  could  not  tell 
where  these  water-holes  were,  but  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  ranch  I  of  course  knew  where  I 
was  likely  to  find  them.  Often,  however,  I  was 
disappointed  ;  and  more  than  once  after  travelling 
many  miles  to  where  I  hoped  to  find  water,  there 
would  be  nothing  but  sun-cracked  mud,  and  the 
horse  and  I  would  have  eighteen  hours  of  thirst 
in  consequence.  A  ranch  horse,  however,  is  ac- 
customed to  such  incidents,  and  of  course  when  a 
man  spends  half  the  day  riding,  it  is  merely  a 
matter  of  slight  inconvenience  to  go  as  long  with- 
out a  drink. 

Nevertheless,  if  I  did  reach  a  spring,  it  turned 
the  expedition  into  pleasure  instead  of  toil.  Even 
in  the  hot  weather  the  ride  toward  the  plains  over 


The  Pronghom  Antelope  117 

the  hills  was  very  lovely.  It  was  beautiful  to  see 
the  red  dawn  quicken  from  the  first  glimmering 
gray  in  the  east,  and  then  to  watch  the  crimson 
bars  glint  on  the  tops  of  the  fantastically  shaped 
barren  hills  when  the  sun  flamed,  burning  and 
splendid,  above  the  horizon.  In  the  early  morn- 
ing the  level  beams  brought  out  into  sharp  relief 
the  strangely  carved  and  channelled  cliff  walls  of 
the  buttes.  There  was  rarely  a  cloud  to  dim  the 
serene  blue  of  the  sky.  By  the  time  the  heat  had 
grown  heavy  I  had  usually  reached  the  spring  or 
pool,  where  I  unsaddled  the  horse,  watered  him, 
and  picketed  him  out  to  graze.  Then,  under  the 
hot  sun  I  would  stride  off  for  the  hunting  proper. 
On  such  occasions  I  never  went  to  where  the 
prairie  was  absolutely  flat.  There  were  always 
gently  rolling  stretches  broken  by  shallow  water- 
courses, slight  divides,  and  even  low  mounds,  some- 
times topped  with  strangely  shaped  masses  of  red 
scoria  or  with  petrified  trees.  My  object,  of  course, 
was,  either  with  my  unaided  eyes  or  with  the  help 
of  my  glasses,  to  catch  sight  of  the  prongbucks 
before  they  saw  me.  I  speedily  found,  by  the 
way,  that  if  they  were  too  plentiful  this  was  almost 
impossible.  The  more  abundant  deer  are  in  a 
given  locality  the  more  apt  one  is  to  run  across 
them,  and  of  course  if  the  country  is  sufficiently 
broken,  the  same  is  true  of  prongbucks ;  but 
where  it  is  very  flat  and  there  are  many  different 


1 1 8    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

bands  in  sight  at  the  same  time,  it  is  practically 
impossible  to  keep  out  of  sight  of  all  of  them,  and 
as  they  are  also  all  in  sight  of  one  another,  if  one 
flees  the  others  are  certain  to  take  the  alarm. 
Under  such  circumstances  I  have  usually  found 
that  the  only  pronghorns  I  got  were  obtained  by 
accident,  so  to  speak ;  that  is,  by  some  of  them  un- 
expectedly running  my  way,  or  by  my  happening 
to  come  across  them  in  some  nook  where  I  could 
not  see  them,  or  they  me. 

On  ordinary  occasions  I  found  that  in  an  exas- 
peratingly  large  proportion  of  cases  the  prongbuck 
saw  me  either  before  or  during  the  attempted  stalk. 
By  exercising  great  care,  however,  and  worming 
my  way  under  cover  of  every  inequality,  I  was 
almost  certain  to  get  one  or  more  chances.  The 
shot  was  usually  taken  at  least  at  twice  the  distance 
that  would  be  necessary  in  stalking  a  mule-deer  or 
a  wapiti.  This,  of  course,  meant  that  there  was  a 
far  greater  chance  for  a  miss.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  very  open  nature  of  the  country  often  enabled 
me  to  put  in  many  shots,  and  in  addition,  I  would 
frequently  be  tempted  by  pronghorns  standing 
still  and  looking  at  me  at  a  range  where  it  was 
unlikely  that  I  would  hit  them,  and  still  entirely 
possible.  In  consequence,  I  found  that  I  expended 
a  much  greater  number  of  cartridges  for  every 
head  of  antelope  killed  than  was  the  case  in  any 
other  kind  of  chase.     If  successful,  I  would  sling 


The  Pronghorn  Antebpe  119 

the  buck  or  bucks  behind  the  saddle,  keeping  them 
in  place  by  passing  the  lariat  diagonally  under  the 
horse's  belly  from  the  horn  of  the  saddle  to  the 
legs  of  the  antelope,  running  it  through  slits  in 
the  sinews,  and  passing  it  back  again  to  the  saddle- 
horn  ;  afterward  repeating  the  operation  with  the 
legs  on  the  other  side.  This  arrangement  renders 
it  impossible  for  the  carcass  to  shift,  no  matter 
what  antics  the  horse  may  perform. 

Usually,  however,  my  pronghorn  hunting  has 
been  done  while  I  have  been  off  with  a  wagon  on 
a  trip  intended  primarily  for  the  chase,  or  else 
while  travelling  for  some  other  purpose. 

All  life  in  the  wilderness  is  so  pleasant  that  the 
temptation  is  to  consider  each  particular  variety, 
while  one  is  enjoying  it,  as  better  than  any  other. 
A  canoe  trip  through  the  great  forests,  a  trip  with 
a  pack-train  among  the  mountains,  a  trip  on  snow- 
shoes  through  the  silent,  mysterious  fairyland  of 
the  woods  in  winter  —  each  has  its  peculiar  charm. 
To  some  men  the  sunny  monotony  of  the  great 
plains  is  wearisome ;  personally  there  are  few 
things  I  have  enjoyed  more  than  journeying  over 
them  where  the  game  was  at  all  plentiful.  Some- 
times I  have  gone  off  for  three  or  four  days  alone 
on  horseback,  with  a  slicker  or  oilskin  coat  behind 
the  saddle,  and  some  salt  and  hardtack  as  my  sole 
provisions.  But  for  comfort  on  a  trip  of  any  length 
it  was  always  desirable  to  have  a  wagon.     My  reg- 


no    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

ular  outfit  consisted  of  a  wagon  and  team  driven 
by  one  man  who  cooked,  together  with  another 
man  and  four  riding  ponies,  two  of  which  we  rode, 
while  the  other  two  were  either  driven  loose  or  led 
behind  the  wagon.  While  it  is  eminently  desira- 
ble that  a  hunter  should  be  able  to  rough  it,  and 
should  be  entirely  willing  to  put  up  with  the  bare 
minimum  of  necessities,  and  to  undergo  great 
fatigue  and  hardship,  it  is  yet  not  at  all  necessary 
that  he  should  refrain  from  comfort  of  a  whole- 
some sort  when  it  is  obtainable.  By  taking  the 
wagon  we  could  carry  a  tent  to  put  up  if  there 
was  foul  weather.  I  had  a  change  of  clothes  to 
put  on  if  I  was  wet,  two  or  three  books  to  read  — 
and  nothing  adds  more  to  the  enjoyment  of  a 
hunting  trip  —  as  well  as  plenty  of  food ;  while 
having  two  men  made  me  entirely  foot-loose  as 
regards  camp,  so  that  I  could  hunt  whenever  I 
pleased,  and,  if  I  came  in  tired,  I  simply  rested, 
instead  of  spending  two  or  three  hours  in  pitch- 
ing camp,  cooking,  tethering  horses,  and  doing 
the  innumerable  other  little  things  which  in  the 
aggregate  amount  to  so  much. 

On  such  a  trip,  when  we  got  into  unknown 
country  it  was  of  course  very  necessary  to  stay 
near  the  wagon,  especially  if  we  had  to  hunt  for 
water.  But  if  we  knew  the  country  at  all,  we 
would  decide  in  the  morning  about  where  the 
camp  was  to  be  made  in  the  afternoon,  and  then 


The  Prongborn  Antelope  121 

I  would  lope  off  on  my  own  account,  while  the 
wagon  lumbered  slowly  across  the  rough  prairie 
sward  straight  toward  its  destination.  Some- 
times I  took  the  spare  man  with  me,  and  some- 
times not.  It  was  convenient  to  have  him,  for 
there  are  continually  small  emergencies  in  which 
it  is  well  to  be  with  a  companion.  For  instance, 
if  one  jumps  off  for  a  sudden  shot,  there  is  always 
a  slight  possibility  that  any  but  a  thoroughly 
trained  horse  will  get  frightened  and  gallop  away. 
On  some  of  my  horses  I  could  absolutely  depend, 
but  there  were  others,  and  very  good  ones  too, 
which  would  on  rare  occasions  fail  me ;  and  few 
things  are  more  disheartening  than  a  long  stern 
chase  after  one's  steed  under  such  circumstances, 
with  the  unpleasant  possibility  of  seeing  him 
leave  the  country  entirely  and  strike  out  for  the 
ranch  fifty  or  sixty  miles  distant.  If  there  is  a 
companion  with  one,  all  danger  of  this  is  over. 
Moreover,  in  galloping  at  full  speed  after  the 
game  it  is  impossible  now  and  then  to  avoid  a 
tumble,  as  the  horse  may  put  his  leg  into  a  prairie- 
dog  hole  or  badger  burrow,  and  on  such  occasions 
a  companion  may  come  in  very  handily.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  is  so  great  a  charm  in  absolute 
solitude,  in  the  wild,  lonely  freedom  of  the  great 
plains,  that  often  I  would  make  some  excuse  and 
go  off  entirely  by  myself. 

Such    rides   had    a   fascination    of    their   own. 


122    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

Hour  after  hour  the  wiry  pony  shuffled  onward 
across  the  sea  of  short,  matted  grass.  On  every 
side  the  plains  stretched  seemingly  limitless. 
Sometimes  there  would  be  no  object  to  break 
the  horizon ;  sometimes  across  a  score  of  miles 
there  would  loom  through  the  clear  air  the  fan- 
tastic outlines  of  a  chain  of  buttes,  rising  grim  and 
barren.  Occasionally  there  might  be  a  slightly 
marked  watercourse,  every  drop  of  moisture  long 
dried;  and  usually  there  would  not  be  as  much 
as  the  smallest  sage  brush  anywhere  in  sight.  As 
the  sun  rose  higher  and  higher  the  shadows  of 
horse  and  rider  shortened,  and  the  beams  were 
reflected  from  the  short,  bleached  blades  until  in 
the  hot  air  all  the  landscape  afar  off  seemed  to 
dance  and  waver.  Often  on  such  trips  days  went 
by  without  our  coming  across  another  human 
being,  and  the  loneliness  and  vastness  of  the 
country  seemed  as  unbroken  as  if  the  old  van- 
ished days  had  returned  —  the  days  of  the  wild 
wilderness  wanderers,  and  the  teeming  myriads 
of  game  they  followed,  and  the  scarcely  wilder 
savages  against  whom  they  warred. 

Now  and  then  prongbuck  would  appear,  singly 
or  in  bands ;  and  their  sharp  bark  of  alarm  or 
curiosity  would  come  to  me  through  the  still,  hot 
air  over  great  distances,  as  they  stood  with  head 
erect  looking  at  me,  the  white  patches  on  their 
rumps  shining   in   the  sun,  and   the  bands  and 


The  Prongborn  Antebpe  123 

markings  on  their  heads  and  necks  showing  as 
if  they  were  in  livery.  Scan  the  country  as  care- 
fully as  I  would,  they  were  far  more  apt  to  see 
me  than  I  was  them,  and  once  they  had  seen  me, 
it  was  normally  hopeless  to  expect  to  get  them. 
But  their  strange  freakishness  of  nature  frequently 
offset  the  keenness  of  their  senses.  At  least  half 
of  the  prongbucks  which  I  shot  were  obtained, 
not  by  stalking,  but  by  coming  across  them  purely 
through  their  own  fault.  Though  the  prairie 
seemed  level,  there  was  really  a  constant  series 
of  undulations,  shallow  and  of  varying  width. 
Now  and  then  as  I  topped  some  slight  rise  I 
would  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  little  band  of  prong- 
horns  feeding,  and  would  slip  off  my  horse  before 
they  could  see  me.  A  hasty  determination  as  to 
where  the  best  chance  of  approaching  them  lay 
would  be  followed  by  a  half-hour's  laborious 
crawl,  a  good  part  of  the  time  flat  on  my  face. 
They  might  discover  me  when  I  was  still  too  far 
for  a  shot ;  or  by  taking  advantage  of  every  little 
inequality  I  might  get  within  long  range  before 
they  got  a  glimpse  of  me,  and  then  in  a  reason- 
able proportion  of  cases  I  would  bag  my  buck. 
At  other  times  the  buck  would  come  to  me. 
Perhaps  one  would  suddenly  appear  over  a  divide 
himself,  and  his  curiosity  would  cause  him  to 
stand  motionless  long  enough  to  give  me  a  shot ; 
while  on  other  occasions  I  have  known  one  which 


124    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

was  out  of  range  to  linger  around,  shifting  his 
position  as  I  shifted  mine,  until  by  some  sudden 
gallop  or  twist  I  was  able  to  get  close  enough  to 
empty  my  magazine  at  him. 

When  the  shadows  had  lengthened,  but  before 
any  coolness  had  come  into  the  air,  I  would  head 
for  the  appointed  camping-place.  Sometimes 
this  would  be  on  the  brink  of  some  desolate  little 
pool  under  a  low,  treeless  butte,  or  out  on  the 
open  prairie  where  the  only  wood  was  what  we 
had  brought  with  us.  At  other  times  I  would 
find  the  wagon  drawn  up  on  the  edge  of  some 
shrunken  plains  river,  under  a  line  of  great  cotton- 
woods  with  splintered  branches  and  glossy  leaves 
that  rustled  all  day  long.  Such  a  camp  was  al- 
ways comfortable,  for  there  was  an  abundance  of 
wood  for  the  fire,  plenty  of  water,  and  thick  feed 
in  which  the  horses  grazed  —  one  or  two  being 
picketed  and  the  others  feeding  loose  until  night 
came  on.  If  I  had  killed  a  prongbuck,  steaks 
were  speedily  sizzling  in  the  frying-pan  over  the 
hot  coals.  If  I  had  failed  to  get  anything,  I  would 
often  walk  a  mile  or  two  down  or  up  the  river  to 
see  if  I  could  not  kill  a  couple  of  prairie-chickens 
or  ducks.  If  the  evening  was  at  all  cool,  we  built 
a  fire  as  darkness  fell,  and  sat  around  it,  while 
the  leaping  flames  lit  up  the  trunks  of  the  cotton- 
woods  and  gleamed  on  the  pools  of  water  in  the 
half  dry  river  bed.     Then   I  would  wrap  myself 


The  Prongborn  Antelope  125 

in   my  blanket  and  lie  looking  up  at   the  brill- 
iant stars  until  I  fell  asleep. 

If  there  were  many  prongbuck  in  the  locality, 
we  might  spend  two  or  three  days  there,  and 
I  would  hunt  either  on  foot  or  on  horseback. 
When  such  was  the  case  I  often  went  on  foot, 
for  the  hunting  might  begin  within  half  a  mile 
of  camp,  and  the  less  amount  of  ground  covered 
was  offset  by  the  great  increase  in  the  care  with 
which  I  could  hunt.  Every  hunter  remembers 
scores  of  stalks  he  has  made,  successful  and  un- 
successful, each  marked  with  its  own  incidents. 
But  such  incidents  differ  slightly  enough  in  the 
narration.  I  would  usually  see  the  animal  I  in- 
tended to  stalk  a  long  distance  off,  and  would 
not  dare  to  lift  my  head  for  another  look  until 
I  thought  I  was  in  his  neighborhood.  In  con- 
sequence I  would  sometimes  find  that  I  had 
crawled  to  the  wrong  place.  I  remember  one 
rather  ludicrous  incident  in  connection  with  such 
a  stalk.  I  saw  a  prongbuck  quite  half  a  mile 
off,  and  though  I  dropped  at  once,  I  was  uncer- 
tain whether  or  not  he  had  seen  me.  He  was 
in  a  little  hollow.  A  long,  smoothly  sloping  pla- 
teau led  up  to  one  edge  of  it.  Across  this  plateau 
I  crawled,  and  when  I  was  near  what  I  thought 
was  the  edge  I  ventured  slowly  to  look  up,  and 
almost  immediately  saw  vaguely  through  the  tops 
of  the  long  grasses  what  I  took  to  be  the  head 


126    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

and  horns  of  the  buck  looking  in  my  direction. 
There  was  no  use  in  going  back,  and  I  dropped 
flat  on  my  face  again  and  crawled  another  hun- 
dred yards,  until  it  became  evident  I  was  on  the 
rise  from  which  the  plateau  sank  into  the  little 
hollow  beyond.  Raising  my  head  inch  by  inch, 
I  caught  sight  of  the  object  toward  which  I  had 
been  crawling,  and  after  a  moment's  hesitation 
recognized  it  as  a  dead  sunflower,  the  stalks  and 
blossoms  so  arranged  as  to  have  a  V  shape.  I 
was  now  completely  puzzled  and  started  to  sit 
up,  when  by  sheer  good  luck  I  caught  sight  of 
the  real  prongbuck,  still  feeding,  some  three 
hundred  yards  off,  and  evidently  not  aware  of  my 
presence.  It  was  feeding  toward  a  slight  hill  to 
my  left,  and  instead  of  risking  the  long  shot,  I 
crept  back  out  of  sight  until  I  got  behind  this 
hill,  and  then  walked  up  until  I  got  in  a  line  with 
a  large  bunch  of  weeds  on  its  shoulder.  I  crept 
on  all  fours  to  these  weeds,  peeped  through  and 
saw  that  the  prongbuck  was  still  slowly  coming 
my  way.  When  it  was  but  seventy  yards  off  I 
sat  up  and  shot  it. 

Half  a  dozen  times  I  have  had  prongbucks 
almost  come  into  camp,  while  on  these  trips,  and 
have  shot  three  or  four  under  such  circumstances. 
When  we  were  thus  camped,  so  that  the  horse  I 
was  not  riding  was  resting,  I  would  often  hunt 
the  prongbuck  in  what  is   to  me  far  the   most 


The  Prongborn  Antelope  127 

attractive  way  —  that  is,  galloping  after  them  on 
horseback.  They  can  be  killed  in  this  fashion 
with  greyhounds,  and  I  once  contributed  two 
or  three  dogs  to  a  scratch-pack,  with  which  we 
thus  killed  quite  a  number.  Any  long-legged  dog 
that  could  run  and  bite  was  classed  for  our  pur- 
poses as  a  greyhound,  and  the  pack  consisted  of 
true  greyhounds,  wire-haired  Scotch  staghounds, 
and  crosses  between  them  and  between  grey- 
hounds and  foxhounds.  Where  really  good 
greyhounds  are  used  for  pronghorn  chasing  the 
dogs  are  carried  in  wagons  until  the  animal  is 
sighted ;  but  our  method  was  to  stretch  out  in  a 
long  line  of  horsemen  and  dogs  and  beat  across 
country,  setting  the  dogs  upon  any  pronghorn 
that  started  near  enough  by.  Usually  the  buck 
got  away,  but  sometimes,  if  we  happened  upon 
him  very  close,  the  dogs  would  seize  him ;  and  at 
other  times  we  would  mob  him  by  sheer  numbers, 
the  dogs  at  one  end  of  the  line  turning  him  so 
that  before  he  knew  where  he  was  he  had  run 
almost  into  those  at  the  other  end  of  the  line. 

I  enjoyed  even  more  trying  to  kill  pronghorn 
on  horseback  when  I  was  alone  without  any  dogs. 
On  such  occasions  I  always  used  either  old 
Manitou  (by  far  the  best  hunting  horse  I  ever 
possessed),  or  else  Muley,  who  was  my  favorite 
cutting  horse  when  I  worked  on  the  round-up. 
Both  were  very  fast  and  very  enduring,  and  both, 


128    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

when  I  jumped  off  and  left  them,  would  always  stay 
in  the  neighborhood  and  permit  themselves  to  be 
caught  without  difficulty.  Both  took  the  keenest 
interest  in  the  chase,  knowing  what  to  do  just  as 
well  as  I  did,  and  both  would  come  to  a  dead 
halt  the  instant  I  pulled  the  reins  to  spring  off 
for  the  shot.  Manitou  stayed  right  by  me,  but 
Muley's  nerves  always  overcame  him  as  I  raised 
my  rifle,  and  snorting  violently,  he  would  dash 
off  for  a  hundred  yards,  wheel,  and  stand  looking 
at  me  with  absorbed  interest,  his  ears  pricked 
forward. 

It  was,  of  course,  no  use  to  try  to  run  down  the 
prongbuck  in  a  straight-away,  tail-on-end  chase. 
My  object  was  to  take  advantage  of  the  animal's 
disinclination  to  change  its  course  when  it  has 
once  definitely  determined  to  run  toward  a  cer- 
tain point.  When  they  first  see  a  mounted  man, 
a  band  of  pronghorns  will  frequently  circle  and 
wheel  or  run  in  zigzags,  halt  and  look  about 
them,  finally  making  up  their  minds  to  go  away 
in  good  earnest  and  in  a  definite  course.  When 
they  are  once  thus  running  they  dislike  to  aban- 
don their  course,  and  if  a  man  seeks  to  cut  them 
off,  they  will  frequently  refuse  to  swerve,  simply 
increasing  their  speed  so  as  to  pass  ahead  of  the 
pursuer.  Taking  advantage  of  this  peculiarity  I 
would  ride  at  a  jog-trot  until  I  saw  a  band  or 
a   single    animal    under   circumstances    which    I 


The  Pronghom  Antelope  129 

thought  favorable.  After  a  little  manoeuvring 
to  find  out  what  the  quarry  was  inclined  to  do,  I 
would  then  bend  off  to  one  side,  perhaps  getting 
under  cover  of  some  low  ridge.  When  I  disap- 
peared the  pronghorns  were  sure  to  gallop  toward 
some  place  where  they  could  see  me.  If  their 
gallop  took  them  straight  away  from  me,  so  that 
when  I  next  saw  them  they  were  far  off,  I  might 
not  make  any  further  effort  after  them.  But  fre- 
quently the  next  glimpse  I  got  of  them  showed 
them  much  nearer  than  they  were  before,  and  I 
would  then  alter  my  course  and  try  to  go  out  of 
sight,  still  travelling  slowly.  Once  out  of  sight, 
if  I  thought  I  was  travelling  in  the  right  direction 
to  get  near  them,  I  would  strike  a  smart  gallop 
until  I  again  topped  a  ridge  from  which  they  were 
visible.  Of  course  there  was  again  the  chance 
that  they  had  gone  in  the  wrong  direction,  but  if 
they  had  not,  I  might  find  myself  within  range,  or 
more  likely  I  might  see  them,  now  running  in 
good  earnest  and  quartering  away  or  toward  me. 
Choosing  my  point  along  their  line  of  flight,  I 
pressed  the  willing  horse,  and  away  we  flew  as 
hard  as  we  knew  how.  The  pronghorns  went 
faster  than  I  did,  but  as  I  had  the  shorter  dis- 
tance to  go,  it  frequently  happened  that  I  could 
cut  them  off,  and  as  soon  as  they  showed  signs  of 
swerving,  or  as  soon  as  it  became  evident  that 
they  would  pass  in  front  of  me,  off  I  would  leap 


130    Deer  and  A nl elope  of  North  America 

for  the  shot.  A  pronghorn  is  the  easiest  of  all 
game  to  hit  running,  as  in  spite  of  its  speed  it  has 
an  exceedingly  even  gait,  and  there  is  of  course  no 
cover ;  so  that  if  I  was  at  all  close,  I  would  count 
on  getting  the  buck  before  it  was  out  of  range. 
Where  the  ground  was  favorable  I  once  killed 
three  prongbucks  in  one  day  in  this  fashion,  and 
very  often  got  one  or  two.  It  is  to  my  mind  the 
most  exhilarating  way  of  hunting  this,  the  true 
game  of  the  plains. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  WAPITI   OR  ROUND-HORNED   ELK 

The  wapiti  is  the  largest  and  stateliest  deer  in 
the  world.  A  full-grown  bull  is  as  big  as  a  steer. 
The  antlers  are  the  most  magnificent  trophies 
yielded  by  any  game  animal  of  America,  save  the 
giant  Alaskan  moose.  When  full  grown  they  are 
normally  of  twelve  tines ;  frequently  the  tines  are 
more  numerous,  but  the  increase  in  their  number 
has  no  necessary  accompaniment  in  increase  in 
the  size  of  the  antlers.  The  length,  massiveness, 
roughness,  spread,  and  symmetry  of  the  antlers 
must  all  be  taken  into  account  in  rating  the  value 
of  a  head.  Antlers  over  fifty  inches  in  length  are 
large ;  if  over  sixty,  they  are  gigantic.  Good 
heads  are  getting  steadily  rarer  under  the  perse- 
cution which  has  thinned  out  the  herds. 

Next  to  the  bison  the  wapiti  is  of  all  the  big 
game  animals  of  North  America  the  one  whose 
range  has  most  decreased.  Originally  it  was 
found  from  the  Pacific  coast  east  across  the  Alle- 
ghanies,  through  New  York  to  the  Adirondacks, 
through  Pennsylvania  into  western  New  Jersey, 

131 


132    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

and  far  down  into  the  mid-country  of  Virginia 
and  the  Carolinas.  It  extended  northward  into 
Canada,  from  the  Great  Lakes  to  Vancouver; 
and  southward  into  Mexico,  along  the  Rockies. 
Its  range  thus  corresponded  roughly  with  that  of 
the  bison,  except  that  it  went  farther  west  and  not 
so  far  north.  In  the  early  colonial  days  so  little 
heed  was  paid  by  writers  to  the  teeming  myriads 
of  game  that  it  is  difficult  to  trace  the  wapiti's 
distribution  in  the  Atlantic  coast  region.  It  was 
certainly  killed  out  of  the  Adirondacks  long 
before  the  moose  was  exterminated.  At  the 
close  of  the  colonial  period,  when  the  backwoods- 
men were  settling  the  valleys  of  the  Alleghany 
Mountains,  they  there  found  the  elk  very  abun- 
dant, and  the  stately  creatures  roamed  in  great 
bands  over  Tennessee,  Kentucky,  Ohio,  and  Indi- 
ana when  the  first  settlers  made  their  way  into 
what  are  now  these  states,  at  the  outbreak  of  the 
Revolution.  These  first  settlers  were  all  hunters, 
and  they  followed  the  wapiti  (or,  as  they  always 
called  it,  the  elk)  with  peculiar  eagerness.  In  con- 
sequence its  numbers  were  soon  greatly  thinned, 
and  about  the  beginning  of  the  present  century  it 
disappeared  from  that  portion  of  its  former  range 
lying  south  of  the  Great  Lakes  and  between  the 
Alleghanies  and  the  Mississippi.  In  the  north- 
ern Alleghanies  it  held  its  own  much  longer,  the 
last  individual  of  which   I  have  been  able  to  get 


The  Wapiti  or  Round-homed  Elk      133 

record  having  been  killed  in  Pennsylvania  in 
1869.  In  the  forests  of  northern  Wisconsin, 
northern  Michigan,  and  Minnesota  wapiti  existed 
still  longer,  and  one  or  two  individuals  may  still 
be  found.  A  few  are  left  in  Manitoba.  When 
Lewis  and  Clark  and  Pike  became  the  pioneers 
among  the  explorers,  army  officers,  hunters,  and 
trappers  who  won  for  our  people  the  great  west, 
they  found  countless  herds  of  wapiti  through- 
out the  high  plains  country  from  the  Mississippi 
River  to  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Throughout 
this  region  it  was  exterminated  almost  as  rap- 
idly as  the  bison,  and  by  the  early  eighties 
there  only  remained  a  few  scattered  individuals, 
in  bits  of  rough  country  such  as  the  Black  Hills, 
the  sand-hills  of  Nebraska,  and  certain  patches  of 
Bad  Lands  along  the  Little  Missouri.  Doubtless, 
stragglers  exist  even  yet  in  one  or  two  of  these 
localities.  But  by  the  time  the  great  buffalo 
herds  of  the  plains  were  completely  exterminated, 
in  1883,  the  wapiti  had  likewise  ceased  to  be  a 
plains  animal;  the  peculiar  Californian  form  had 
also  been  well-nigh  exterminated. 

Disregarding  the  Pacific  coast  form  of  Van- 
couver and  the  Olympian  Mountains,  the  wapiti 
was  thenceforth  a  beast  of  the  Rocky  Mountain 
region  proper,  and  was  especially  abundant  in 
western  Montana,  Wyoming,  and  Colorado. 
Throughout  these   mountains  its  extermination, 


134    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

though  less  rapid  than  on  the  plains,  has  never- 
theless gone  on  with  melancholy  steadiness.  In 
the  early  nineties  it  was  still  as  abundant  as  ever 
in  large  regions  in  western  Wyoming  and  Mon- 
tana and  northwestern  Colorado.  In  northwest- 
ern Colorado  the  herds  are  now  represented  by 
only  a  few  hundred  individuals.  In  western 
Montana  they  are  scattered  over  a  wider  region 
and  are  protected  by  the  denser  timber,  but  are 
nowhere  plentiful.  They  have  nearly  vanished 
from  the  Big  Horn  Mountains.  They  are  still 
plentiful  in  and  around  their  great  nursery  and 
breeding-ground,  the  Yellowstone  National  Park. 
If  this  park  can  be  extended  so  as  to  take  in  part 
of  their  winter  range,  they  can  be  preserved  for 
all  time,  to  the  delight  of  all  lovers  of  nature,  and 
to  the  great  pecuniary  benefit  of  the  people  of 
Wyoming  and  Montana.  But  at  present  their 
former  winter  range,  especially  south  of  the  park, 
is  filling  up  with  settlers,  and  unless  the  condi- 
tions change,  the  wapiti  will  more  and  more  be 
compelled  to  winter  among  the  mountains,  which 
will  mean  such  immense  losses  from  starvation 
and  deep  snow  that  the  herds  will  be  wofully 
thinned.  Surely  all  men  who  care  for  nature, 
no  less  than  all  men  who  care  for  big  game  hunt- 
ing, should  combine  to  try  to  see  that  not  merely 
the  states  but  the  Federal  authorities  make  every 
effort,  and  are  given  every  power,  to  prevent  the 


The  Wapiti  or  Round-horned  Elk      135 

extermination  of  this  stately  and  beautiful  animal, 
the  lordliest  of  the  deer  kind  in  the  entire  world. 

The  wapiti,  like  the  bison,  and  even  more  than 
the  whitetail  deer,  can  thrive  in  widely  varying 
surroundings.  It  is  at  home  among  the  high 
mountains,  in  the  deep  forests,  and  on  the  tree- 
less, level  plains.  It  is  rather  omnivorous  in  its 
tastes,  browsing  and  grazing  on  all  kinds  of  trees, 
shrubs,  and  grasses.  These  traits,  and  its  hardi- 
hood, make  it  comparatively  easy  to  perpetuate 
in  big  parks  and  forest  preserves  in  a  semi-wild 
condition ;  and  it  has  thriven  in  such  preserves 
and  parks  in  many  of  the  eastern  states.  As  it 
does  not,  by  preference,  dwell  in  such  tangled 
forests  as  are  the  delight  of  the  moose  and  the 
whitetail  deer,  it  vanishes  much  quicker  than 
either  when  settlers  appear  in  the  land.  In  the 
mountains  and  foot-hills  its  habitat  is  much  the 
same  as  that  of  the  mule-deer,  the  two  animals 
being  often  found  in  the  immediate  neighbor- 
hood of  each  other.  In  such  places  the  superior 
size  and  value  of  the  wapiti  put  it  at  a  disadvan- 
tage in  the  keen  struggle  for  life,  and  when  the 
rifle-bearing  hunter  appears  upon  the  scene,  it 
vanishes  long  before  its  smaller  kinsman. 

Moreover,  the  wapiti  is  undoubtedly  subject  to 
queer  freaks  of  panic  stupidity,  or  what  seems 
like  a  mixture  of  tameness  and  of  puzzled  terror. 
At  these  times  a  herd  will  remain  almost  motion- 


136    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

less,  the  individuals  walking  undecidedly  to  and 
fro,  and  neither  flinching  nor  giving  any  other 
sign  even  when  hit  with  a  bullet.  In  the  old 
days  it  was  not  uncommon  for  a  professional 
hunter  to  destroy  an  entire  herd  of  wapiti  when 
one  of  these  fits  of  confusion  was  on  them.  Even 
nowadays  they  sometimes  behave  in  this  way. 
In  1897,  Mr.  Ansley  Wilcox,  of  Buffalo,  was 
hunting  in  the  Teton  basin.  He  came  across  a 
small  herd  of  wapiti,  the  first  he  had  ever  seen, 
and  opened  fire  when  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
distant.  They  paid  no  heed  to  the  shots,  and 
after  taking  three  or  four  at  one  bull,  with  seem- 
ingly no  effect,  he  ran  in  closer  and  emptied  his 
magazine  at  another,  also  seemingly  without 
effect,  before  the  herd  slowly  disappeared.  After 
a  few  rods,  both  bulls  fell ;  and  on  examination 
it  was  found  that  all  nine  bullets  had  hit  them. 

To  my  mind,  the  venison  of  the  wapiti  is,  on 
the  whole,  better  than  that  of  any  other  wild 
game,  though  its  fat  when  cooled  at  once  hardens, 
like  mutton  tallow. 

In  its  life  habits  the  wapiti  differs  somewhat 
from  its  smaller  relatives.  It  is  far  more  gre- 
garious, and  is  highly  polygamous.  During  the 
spring,  while  the  bulls  are  growing  their  great 
antlers,  and  while  the  cows  have  very  young 
calves,  both  bulls  and  cows  live  alone,  each  indi- 
vidual for  itself.     At  such  time  each  seeks  the 


The  Wapiti  or  Round-horned  Elk      137 

most  secluded  situation,  often  going  very  high  up 
on  the  mountains.  Occasionally  a  couple  of 
bulls  lie  together,  moving  around  as  little  as  pos- 
sible. The  cow  at  this  time  realizes  that  her 
calf's  chance  of  life  depends  upon  her  absolute 
seclusion,  and  avoids  all  observation. 

As  the  horns  begin  to  harden  the  bulls  thrash 
the  velvet  off  against  quaking  asp,  or  ash,  or  even 
young  spruce,  splintering  and  battering  the  bushes 
and  small  trees.  The  cows  and  calves  begin  to 
assemble ;  the  bulls  seek  them.  But  the  bulls  do 
not  run  the  cows  as  among  the  smaller  deer  the 
bucks  run  the  does.  The  time  of  the  beginning 
of  the  rut  varies  in  different  places,  but  it  usu- 
ally takes  place  in  September,  about  a  month 
earlier  than  that  of  the  deer  in  the  same  lo- 
cality. The  necks  of  the  bulls  swell  and  they 
challenge  incessantly,  for  unlike  the  smaller  deer 
they  are  very  noisy.  Their  love  and  war  calls, 
when  heard  at  a  little  distance,  amid  the  moun- 
tains, have  a  most  musical  sound.  Frontiersmen 
usually  speak  of  their  call  as  "  whistling,"  which 
is  not  a  very  appropriate  term.  The  call  may  be 
given  in  a  treble  or  in  a  bass,  but  usually  consists 
of  two  or  three  bars,  first  rising  and  then  falling, 
followed  by  a  succession  of  grunts.  The  grunts 
can  only  be  heard  when  close  up.  There  can  be 
no  grander  or  more  attractive  chorus  than  the 
challenging  of  a  number  of  wapiti  bulls  when  two 


138    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

great  herds  happen  to  approach  one  another  under 
the  moonlight  or  in  the  early  dawn.  The  pealing 
notes  echo  through  the  dark  valleys  as  if  from 
silver  bugles,  and  the  air  is  filled  with  the  wild 
music.  Where  little  molested  the  wapiti  chal- 
lenge all  day  long. 

They  can  be  easiest  hunted  during  the  rut,  the 
hunter  placing  them,  and  working  up  to  them,  by 
the  sound  alone.  The  bulls  are  excessively  trucu- 
lent and  pugnacious.  Each  big  one  gathers  a 
herd  of  cows  about  him  and  drives  all  possible 
rivals  away  from  his  immediate  neighborhood, 
although  sometimes  spike  bulls  are  allowed  to 
remain  with  the  herd.  Where  wapiti  are  very 
abundant,  however,  many  of  these  herds  may  join 
together  and  become  partially  welded  into  a  mass 
that  may  contain  thousands  of  animals.  In  the 
old  days  such  huge  herds  were  far  from  uncom- 
mon, especially  during  the  migrations ;  but  now- 
adays there  only  remain  one  or  two  localities  in 
which  wapiti  are  sufficiently  plentiful  ever  to  come 
together  in  bands  of  any  size.  The  bulls  are  inces- 
santly challenging  and  fighting  one  another,  and 
driving  around  the  cows  and  calves.  Each  keeps 
the  most  jealous  watch  over  his  own  harem,  treat- 
ing its  members  with  great  brutality;  and  is  sel- 
fishly indifferent  to  their  fate  the  instant  he  thinks 
his  own  life  in  jeopardy.  During  the  rut  the 
erotic  manifestations  of  the  bull  are  extraordinary. 


The  Wapiti  or  Round-homed  Elk     139 

One  or  two  fawns  are  born,  about  May.  In 
the  mountains  the  cow  usually  goes  high  up  to 
bring  forth  her  fawn.  Personally  I  have  only  had 
a  chance  to  observe  the  wapiti  in  the  spring  in 
the  neighborhood  of  my  ranch  in  the  Bad  Lands 
of  the  Little  Missouri.  Here  the  cow  invariably 
selected  some  wild  lonely  bit  of  very  broken  coun- 
try in  which  there  were  dense  thickets  and  some 
water.  There  was  one  such  patch  some  fifteen 
miles  from  my  ranch,  in  which  for  many  years 
wapiti  regularly  bred.  The  breeding  cow  lay  by 
herself,  although  sometimes  the  young  of  the  pre- 
ceding year  would  lurk  in  the  neighborhood.  For 
the  first  few  days  the  calf  seemed  not  to  leave  the 
bed,  and  would  not  move  even  when  handled. 
Then  it  began  to  follow  the  mother.  In  this 
particular  region  the  grass  was  coarse  and  rank, 
save  for  a  few  patches  in  the  immediate  neighbor- 
hood of  little  alkali  springs.  Accordingly,  it  was 
not  much  visited  by  the  cattle  or  by  the  cowboys. 
Doubtless  in  the  happier  days  of  the  past,  when 
man  was  merely  an  infrequent  interloper,  the 
wapiti  cows  had  made  their  nurseries  in  pleas- 
anter  and  more  fruitful  valleys.  But  in  my  time 
the  hunted  creatures  had  learned  that  their  only 
chance  was  to  escape  observation.  I  have  known 
not  only  cows  with  young  calves,  but  cows  when 
the  calves  were  out  of  the  spotted  coat,  and  even 
yearlings,  to  try  to  escape  by  hiding  —  the  great 


140    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

beasts  lying  like  rabbits  in  some  patch  of  thick 
brush,  while  I  rode  close  by.  The  best  hunting 
horse  I  ever  had,  old  Manitou,  in  addition  to  his 
other  useful  qualities,  would  serve  as  a  guard  on 
such  occasions.  I  would  leave  him  on  a  little 
hillock  to  one  side  of  such  a  patch  of  brush,  and 
as  he  walked  slowly  about,  grazing  and  rattling 
his  bridle  chains,  he  would  prevent  the  wapiti 
breaking  cover  on  that  side,  and  give  me  an  addi- 
tional chance  of  slipping  around  toward  them  — 
although,  if  the  animal  was  a  cow,  I  never  molested 
it  unless  in  dire  need  of  meat. 

Most  of  my  elk  hunting  was  done  among  the 
stupendous  mountain  masses  of  the  Rockies,  which 
I  usually  reached  after  a  long  journey,  with  wagon- 
or  pack-train,  over  the  desolate  plains.  Ordinarily 
I  planned  to  get  to  the  hunting-ground  by  the  end 
of  August,  so  as  to  have  ample  time.  By  that 
date  the  calves  were  out  of  the  spotted  coat,  the 
cows  and  the  young  of  the  preceding  year  had 
banded,  and  the  big  bulls  had  come  down  to  join 
them  from  the  remote  recesses  in  which  they  had 
been  lying,  solitary  or  in  couples,  while  their  antlers 
were  growing.  Many  bulls  were  found  alone,  or, 
if  young,  in  small  parties ;  but  the  normal  arrange- 
ment was  for  each  big  bull  to  have  his  own  harem, 
around  the  outskirts  of  which  there  were  to  be 
found  lurking  occasional  spike  bulls  who  were 
always  venturing  too  near  and  being  chased  off 


The  Wapiti  or  Round-horned  Elk      141 

by  the  master  bull.  Frequently  several  such  herds 
joined  together  into  a  great  band.  Before  the 
season  was  fairly  on,  when  the  bulls  had  not 
been  worked  into  actual  frenzy,  there  was  not 
much  fighting  in  these  bands.  Later  they  were 
the  scenes  of  desperate  combats.  Each  master 
bull  strove  to  keep  his  harem  under  his  own  eyes, 
and  was  always  threatening  and  fighting  the  other 
master  bulls,  as  well  as  those  bulls  whose  prowess 
had  proved  insufficient  hitherto  to  gain  them  a 
band,  or  who  after  having  gained  one  had  been 
so  exhausted  and  weakened  as  to  succumb  to 
some  new  aspirant  for  the  leadership.  The  bulls 
were  calling  and  challenging  all  the  time,  and 
there  was  ceaseless  turmoil,  owing  to  their  fights 
and  their  driving  the  cows  around.  The  cows 
were,  more  wary  than  the  bulls,  and  there  were  so 
many  keen  noses  and  fairly  good  eyes  that  it  was 
difficult  to  approach  a  herd ;  whereas  the  single 
bulls  were  so  noisy,  careless,  and  excited  that  it 
was  comparatively  easy  to  stalk  them.  A  rutting 
wapiti  bull  is  as  wicked  looking  a  creature  as 
can  be  imagined,  swaggering  among  the  cows  and 
threatening  the  young  bulls,  his  jaws  mouthing 
and  working  in  a  kind  of  ugly  leer. 

The  bulls  fight  desperately  with  one  another. 
The  two  combatants  come  together  with  a  re- 
sounding clash  of  antlers,  and  then  push  and 
strain  with   their  mouths  open.      The  skin  on 


142    Deer  and  Antebpe  of  North  America 

their  neck  and  shoulders  is  so  thick  and  tough 
that  the  great  prongs  cannot  get  through  or  do 
more  than  inflict  bruises.  The  only  danger  comes 
when  the  beaten  party  turns  to  flee.  The  victor 
pursues  at  full  speed.  Usually  the  beaten  one 
gets  off ;  but  if  by  any  accident  he  is  caught  where 
he  cannot  escape,  he  is  very  apt  to  be  gored  in  the 
flank  and  killed.  Mr.  Baillie-Grohman  has  given 
a  very  interesting  description  of  one  such  fatal 
duel  of  which  he  was  an  eye-witness  on  a  moon- 
light night  in  the  mountains.  I  have  never 
known  of  the  bull  trying  to  protect  the  cow  from 
any  enemy.  He  battles  for  her  against  rivals  with 
intense  ferocity ;  but  his  attitude  toward  her,  once 
she  is  gained,  is  either  that  of  brutality  or  of  in- 
difference. She  will  fight  for  her  calf  against  any 
enemy  which  she  thinks  she  has  a  chance  of  con- 
quering, although  of  course  not  against  man.  But 
the  bull  leaves  his  family  to  their  fate  the  minute 
he  thinks  there  is  any  real  danger.  During  the 
rut  he  is  greatly  excited,  and  does  not  fear  a  dog 
or  a  single  wolf,  and  may  join  with  the  rest  of  the 
herd  of  both  sexes  in  trying  to  chase  off  one  or 
the  other,  should  he  become  aware  of  its  approach. 
But  if  there  is  serious  danger,  his  only  thought  is 
for  himself,  and  he  has  no  compunctions  about 
sacrificing  any  of  his  family.  When  on  the  move 
a  cow  almost  always  goes  first,  while  the  bull 
brings  up  the  rear. 


The  Wapiti  or  Round-homed  Elk      143 

In  domestication  the  bulls  are  very  dangerous 
to  human  beings,  and  will  kill  a  man  at  once  if 
they  can  get  him  at  a  disadvantage ;  but  in  a  state 
of  nature  they  very  rarely  indeed  overcome  their 
abject  terror  of  humanity,  even  when  wounded  and 
cornered.  Of  course,  if  the  man  comes  straight 
up  to  him  where  he  cannot  get  away,  a  wapiti  will 
fight  as,  under  like  circumstances,  a  blacktail  or 
whitetail  will  fight,  and  equally,  of  course,  he  is 
then  far  more  dangerous  than  his  smaller  kins- 
folk ;  but  he  is  not  nearly  so  apt  to  charge  as  a  bull 
moose.  I  have  never  known  but  two  authentic 
instances  of  their  thus  charging.  One  happened 
to  a  hunter  named  Bennett  on  the  Little  Mis- 
souri ;  the  other  to  a  gentleman  I  met,  a  doctor, 
in  Meeker,  Colorado.  The  doctor  had  wounded 
his  wapiti,  and  as  it  was  in  the  late  fall,  followed 
him  easily  in  the  snow.  Finally,  he  came  upon 
the  wapiti  standing  where  the  snow  was  very  deep 
at  the  bottom  of  a  small  valley,  and  on  his  approach 
the  wapiti  deliberately  started  to  break  his  way 
through  the  snow  toward  him,  and  had  almost 
reached  him  when  he  was  killed.  But  for  every 
one  such  instance  of  a  wapiti's  charging  there  are 
a  hundred  in  which  a  bull  moose  has  charged. 
Senator  Redfield  Proctor  was  charged  most  reso- 
lutely by  a  mortally  hurt  bull  moose  which  fell  in 
the  death  throes  just  before  reaching  him ;  and  I 
could  cite  case  after  case  of  the  kind. 


144    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

The  wapiti's  natural  gaits  are  a  walk  and  a  trot. 
It  walks  very  fast  indeed,  especially  if  travelling  to 
reach  some  given  point.  More  than  once  I  have 
sought  to  overtake  a  travelling  bull,  and  have 
found  myself  absolutely  unable  to  do  so,  although 
it  never  broke  its  walk.  Of  course,  if  I  had  not 
been  obliged  to  pay  any  heed  to  cover  or  wind,  I 
could  have  run  up  on  it;  but  the  necessity  for 
paying  heed  to  both  handicapped  me  so  that  I 
was  actually  unable  to  come  up  to  the  quarry  as 
it  swung  steadily  on  through  woodland  and  open, 
over  rough  ground  and  smooth.  Wapiti  have  a 
slashing  trot,  which  they  can  keep  up  for  an  in- 
definite time  and  over  any  kind  of  country.  Only 
a  good  pony  can  overtake  them  when  they  have 
had  any  start  and  have  got  settled  into  this  trot. 
If  much  startled  they  break  into  a  gallop  —  the 
young  being  always  much  more  willing  to  gallop 
than  the  old.  Their  gallop  is  very  fast,  especially 
down  hill.  But  they  speedily  tire  under  it.  A 
yearling  or  a  two-year-old  can  keep  it  up  for  a 
couple  of  miles.  A  heavy  old  bull  will  be  done 
out  after  a  few  hundred  yards.  I  once  saw  a  band 
of  wapiti  frightened  into  a  gallop  down  a  steep 
incline  where  there  were  also  a  couple  of  mule- 
deer.  I  had  not  supposed  that  wapiti  ran  as  fast 
as  mule-deer,  but  this  particular  band  actually 
passed  the  deer,  though  the  latter  were  evidently 
doing  their  best ;  the  wapiti  were  well  ahead  when, 


The  Wapiti  or  Round-homed  Elk      145 

after  thundering  down  the  steep,  broken  incline, 
they  all  disappeared  into  a  belt  of  woodland.  In 
spite  of  their  size,  wapiti  climb  well  and  go  sure- 
footedly  over  difficult  and  dangerous  ground. 
They  have  a  habit  of  coming  out  to  the  edges 
of  cliffs,  or  on  mountain  spurs,  and  looking  over 
the  landscape  beneath,  almost  as  though  they  en- 
joyed the  scenery.  What  their  real  object  is  on 
such  occasions  I  do  not  know. 

The  nose  of  the  wapiti  is  very  keen.  Its  sight 
is  much  inferior  to  that  of  the  antelope,  but  about 
as  good  as  a  deer's.  Its  hearing  is  also  much  like 
that  of  a  deer.  When  in  country  where  it  is  little 
molested,  it  feeds  and  moves  about  freely  by  day, 
lying  down  to  rest  at  intervals,  like  cattle.  Wapiti 
offer  especial  attractions  to  the  hunter,  and  next  to 
the  bison  are  more  quickly  exterminated  than  any 
other  kind  of  game.  Only  the  fact  that  they 
possess  a  far  wider  range  of  habitat  than  either 
the  mule-deer,  the  prongbuck,  or  the  moose,  has 
enabled  them  still  to  exist.  Their  gregariousness 
is  also  against  them.  Even  after  the  rut  the 
herds  continue  together  until  in  mid  spring  the 
bulls  shed  their  antlers  —  for  they  keep  their 
antlers  at  least  two  months  longer  than  deer. 
During  the  fall,  winter,  and  early  spring  wapiti 
are  roving,  restless  creatures.  Their  habit  of 
migration  varies  with  locality,  as  among  mule- 
deer.     Along  the  Little  Missouri,  as  in  the  plains 


146    Deer  and  Antebpe  of  North  America 

country  generally,  there  was  no  well-defined  migra- 
tion. Up  to  the  early  eighties,  when  wapiti  was 
still  plentiful,  the  bands  wandered  far  and  wide ; 
but  fitfully  and  irregularly,  wholly  without  regard 
to  the  season,  save  that  they  were  stationary  from 
May  to  August.  After  1883  there  were  but  a  few 
individuals  left,  although  as  late  as  1886  I  once 
came  across  a  herd  of  nine.  These  surviving  in- 
dividuals had  learned  caution.  The  bulls  only 
called  by  night,  and  not  very  frequently  then,  and 
they  spent  the  entire  year  in  the  roughest  and 
most  out-of-the-way  places,  having  the  same  range 
both  winter  and  summer.  They  selected  tracts 
where  the  ground  was  very  broken  and  there  was 
much  shrubbery,  and  patches  of  small  trees.  This 
tree  and  bush  growth  gave  them  both  shelter  and 
food ;  for  they  are  particularly  fond  of  browsing 
on  the  leaves  and  tender  twig  ends,  though  they 
also  eat  weeds  and  grass. 

Wherever  wapiti  dwell  among  the  mountains 
they  make  regular  seasonal  migrations.  In  north- 
western Wyoming  they  spend  the  summer  in  the 
Yellowstone  National  Park,  but  in  winter  they 
go  south  to  Jackson's  Hole,  and  used  formerly, 
also,  to  move  out  of  the  park  to  the  northeast. 
In  northwestern  Colorado  their  migrations  fol- 
lowed much  the  same  line  as  those  of  the  mule- 
deer.  In  different  localities  the  length  of  the 
migration   and   even   the  time  differed.     There 


The  Wapiti  or  Round-homed  Elk      147 

were  some  places  where  the  shift  was  simply 
from  the  high  mountains  down  to  their  foot-hills. 
In  other  places  great  herds  travelled  a  couple  of 
hundred  miles,  so  that  localities  absolutely  barren 
one  month  would  be  swarming  with  wapiti  the 
next.  In  some  places  the  shift  took  place  as 
early  as  the  month  of  August;  in  others  not 
until  after  the  rut,  in  October  or  even  Novem- 
ber; and  in  some  places  the  rut  took  place 
during  the  migration. 

No  chase  is  more  fascinating  than  that  of  the 
wapiti.  In  the  old  days,  when  the  mighty  antlered 
beasts  were  found  upon  the  open  plains,  they 
could  be  followed  upon  horseback,  with  or  with- 
out hounds.  Nowadays,  when  they  dwell  in  the 
mountains,  they  are  to  be  killed  only  by  the 
rifle-bearing  still-hunter.  Needless  butchery  of 
any  kind  of  animal  is  repulsive,  but  in  the  case 
of  the  wapiti  it  is  little  short  of  criminal.  He  is 
the  grandest  of  the  deer  kind  throughout  the 
world,  and  he  has  already  vanished  from  most  of 
the  places  where  he  once  dwelt  in  his  pride. 
Every  true  sportsman  should  feel  it  incumbent 
upon  him  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  preserve  so 
noble  a  beast  of  the  chase  from  extinction.  No 
harm  whatever  comes  to  the  species  from  killing 
a  certain  number  of  bulls ;  but  an  excessive  num- 
ber should  never  be  killed,  and  no  cow  or  calf 
should    under    any   circumstances    be    touched. 


148     Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

Formerly,  when  wapiti  were  plentiful,  it  would 
have  been  folly  for  hunters  and  settlers  in  the 
unexplored  wilderness  not  to  kill  wild  game  for 
their  meat,  and  occasionally  a  cow  or  a  calf  had 
to  be  thus  slain ;  but  there  is  no  excuse  nowadays 
for  a  hunting  party  killing  anything  but  a  full- 
grown  bull. 

In  a  civilized  and  cultivated  country  wild  ani- 
mals only  continue  to  exist  at  all  when  preserved 
by  sportsmen.  The  excellent  people  who  protest 
against  all  hunting,  and  consider  sportsmen  as 
enemies  of  wild  life,  are  wholly  ignorant  of  the 
fact  that  in  reality  the  genuine  sportsman  is  by 
all  odds  the  most  important  factor  in  keeping  wild 
creatures  from  total  extermination.  Of  course,  if 
wild  animals  were  allowed  to  breed  unchecked, 
they  would,  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time, 
render  any  country  uninhabitable  by  man,  —  a 
fact  which  ought  to  be  a  matter  of  elementary 
knowledge  in  any  community  where  the  average 
intelligence  is  above  that  of  certain  portions  of 
Hindoostan.  Equally,  of  course,  in  a  purely  utili- 
tarian community  all  wild  animals  are  extermi- 
nated out  of  hand.  In  order  to  preserve  the  wild  life 
of  the  wilderness  at  all,  some  middle  ground  must 
be  found  between  brutal  and  senseless  slaughter 
and  the  unhealthy  sentimentalism  which  would 
just  as  surely  defeat  its  own  end  by  bringing 
about  the  eventual  total  extinction  of  the  game. 


The  Wapiti  or  Round-homed  Elk      149 

It  is  impossible  to  preserve  the  larger  wild 
animals  in  regions  thoroughly  fit  for  agricul- 
ture; and  it  is  perhaps  too  much  to  hope  that 
the  larger  carnivors  can  be  preserved  for  merely 
aesthetic  reasons.  But  throughout  our  country 
there  are  great  regions  entirely  unsuited  for  agri- 
culture where,  if  the  people  only  have  foresight, 
they  can,  through  the  power  of  the  state,  keep 
the  game  in  perpetuity.  There  is  no  hope  of 
preserving  the  bison  permanently,  save  in  great 
private  parks;  but  all  other  game,  including  not 
merely  deer,  but  the  pronghorn,  the  splendid  big- 
horn, and  the  stately  and  beautiful  wapiti,  can  be 
kept  on  the  public  lands,  if  only  the  proper  laws 
are  passed,  and  if  only  these  laws  are  properly 
enforced.  I  suppose  that  no  lover  of  nature  who 
travels  through  Switzerland  does  not  regret  that 
the  ibex  has  vanished  from  among  the  Swiss 
mountains;  and  every  good  American  ought  to 
endeavor  to  see  to  it  that  for  ages  to  come  such 
a  fate  does  not  befall  the  bighorn  and  the  wapiti 
in  the  Rockies. 

A  peculiar  charm  in  the  chase  of  the  wapiti 
comes  from  the  wild  beauty  of  the  country  in 
which  it  dwells.  The  moose  lives  in  marshy  for- 
ests ;  if  one  would  seek  the  white  goat  or  caribou 
of  the  northern  Rockies,  he  must  travel  on  foot, 
pack  on  back ;  while  the  successful  chase  of  the 
bighorn,  perhaps  on  the  whole   the   manliest   of 


150    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

all  our  sports,  means  heart-breaking  fatigue  for 
any  but  the  strongest  and  hardiest.  The  prong- 
buck,  again,  must  be  followed  on  the  desolate,  sun- 
scorched  plains.  But  the  wapiti  dwells  amid  lofty, 
pine-clad  mountains,  in  a  region  of  lakes  and 
streams.  A  man  can  travel  in  comfort  while 
hunting  it,  because  he  can  almost  always  take  a 
pack-train  with  him,  and  the  country  is  usually 
sufficiently  open  to  enable  the  hunter  to  enjoy  all 
the  charm  of  distant  landscapes.  Where  the  wap- 
iti lives  the  spotted  trout  swarm  in  the  brooks, 
and  the  wood-grouse  fly  upward  to  perch  among 
the  tree-tops  as  the  hunter  passes  them.  When 
hunting  him  there  is  always  sweet  cold  water  to 
be  drunk  at  night,  and  beds  of  aromatic  fir  boughs 
on  which  to  sleep,  with  the  blankets  drawn  over 
one  to  keep  out  the  touch  of  the  frost.  He  must 
be  followed  on  foot,  and  the  man  who  follows  him 
must  be  sound  in  limb  and  wind.  But  his  pur- 
suit does  not  normally  mean  such  wearing  ex- 
haustion as  is  entailed  by  climbing  cliffs  all  day 
long  after  the  white  goat.  Whoever  has  hunted 
the  wapiti,  as  he  looks  at  his  trophies,  will  always 
think  of  the  great  mountains  with  the  snow  lying 
in  the  rifts  in  their  sides;  of  the  splashing  mur- 
mur of  rock-choked  torrents ;  of  the  odorous 
breath  of  the  pine  branches ;  of  tents  pitched  in 
open  glades;  of  long  walks  through  cool  open 
forests;    and    of    great    camp-fires,    where    the 


The  Wapiti  or  Round-homed  Elk      151 

pitchy  stumps   flame  like   giant   torches   in   the 
darkness. 

In  the  old  days,  of  course,  much  of  the  hunting 
was  done  on  the  open  plains  or  among  low,  rugged 
hills.  The  wapiti  that  I  shot  when  living  at  my 
Little  Missouri  ranch  were  killed  under  exactly 
the  same  conditions  as  mule-deer.  When  I  built 
my  ranch-house  wapiti  were  still  not  uncommon, 
and  their  shed  antlers  were  very  numerous  both  on 
the  bottoms  and  in  places  among  the  hills.  There 
was  one  such  place  a  couple  of  miles  from  my 
ranch  in  a  stretch  of  comparatively  barren  but 
very  broken  hill-country  in  which  there  were 
many  score  of  these  shed  antlers.  Evidently  a 
few  years  before  this  had  been  a  great  gathering- 
place  for  wapiti  toward  the  end  of  winter.  My 
ranch  itself  derived  its  name  "  The  Elkhorn  " 
from  the  fact  that  on  the  ground  where  we  built 
it  were  found  the  skulls  and  interlocked  antlers 
of  two  wapiti  bulls  who  had  perished  from  getting 
their  antlers  fastened  in  a  battle.  I  never,  how- 
ever, killed  a  wapiti  while  on  a  day's  hunt  from 
the  ranch  itself.  Those  that  I  killed  were  ob- 
tained on  regular  expeditions,  when  I  took  the 
wagon  and  drove  off  to  spend  a  night  or  two  on 
ground  too  far  for  me  to  hunt  it  through  in  a  sin- 
gle day  from  the  ranch.  Moreover,  the  wapiti  on 
the  Little  Missouri  had  been  so  hunted  that  they 
had  entirely  abandoned  the  diurnal  habits  of  their 


T52    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

kind,  and  it  was  a  great  advantage  to  get  on  the 
ground  early.  This  hunting  was  not  carried  on 
amid  the  glorious  mountain  scenery  which  marks 
the  home  of  the  wapiti  in  the  Rockies ;  but  the 
surroundings  had  a  charm  of  their  own.  All 
really  wild  scenery  is  attractive.  The  true 
hunter,  the  true  lover  of  the  wilderness,  loves  all 
parts  of  the  wilderness,  just  as  the  true  lover  of 
nature  loves  all  seasons.  There  is  no  season  of 
the  year  when  the  country  is  not  more  attractive 
than  the  city ;  and  there  is  no  portion  of  the  wil- 
derness, where  game  is  found,  in  which  it  is  not  a 
keen  pleasure  to  hunt.  Perhaps  no  other  kind  of 
country  quite  equals  that  where  snow  lies  on  the 
lofty  mountain  peaks,  where  there  are  many  open 
glades  in  the  pine  forests,  and  clear  mountain 
lakes,  and  rushing  trout-filled  torrents.  But  the 
fantastic  desolation  of  the  Bad  Lands,  and  the  end- 
less sweep  of  the  brown  prairies,  alike  have  their 
fascination  for  the  true  lover  of  nature  and  lover 
of  the  wilderness  who  goes  through  them  on  foot 
or  on  horseback.  As  for  the  broken  hill-country 
in  which  I  followed  the  wapiti  and  the  mule-deer 
along  the  Little  Missouri,  it  would  be  strange 
indeed  if  any  one  found  it  otherwise  than  attrac- 
tive in  the  bright,  sharp,  fall  weather.  Long, 
grassy  valleys  wound  among  the  boldly  shaped 
hills.  The  basins  were  filled  with  wind-beaten 
trees  and  brush  which  generally  also  ran  along- 


A   SHOT   AT   ELK 


The  Wapiti  or  Round-homed  Elk      153 

side  of  the  dry  watercourses  down  the  middle  of 
each  valley.  Cedars  clustered  in  the  sheer  ra- 
vines, and  here  and  there  groups  of  elm  and  ash 
grew  to  a  considerable  height  in  the  more  shel- 
tered places.  At  the  first  touch  of  the  frost  the 
foliage  turned  russet  or  yellow  —  the  Virginia 
creepers  crimson.  Under  the  cloudless  blue  sky 
the  air  was  fresh  and  cool,  and  as  we  lay  by  the 
camp-fire  at  night  the  stars  shone  with  extraordi- 
nary brilliancy.  Under  such  conditions  the  actual 
chase  of  the  wapiti  was  much  like  that  of  the  mule- 
deer.  They  had  been  so  hunted  that  they  showed 
none  of  the  foolish  traits  which  they  are  prone  to 
exhibit  when  bands  are  found  in  regions  where 
they  have  been  little  persecuted ;  and  they  were 
easier  to  kill  than  mule-deer  simply  because  they 
were  more  readily  tracked  and  more  readily  seen, 
and  offered  a  larger,  and  on  the  whole  a  steadier, 
mark  at  which  to  shoot.  When  a  small  band  had 
visited  a  pool  their  tracks  could  be  identified  at 
once,  because  in  the  soft  ground  the  flexible  feet 
spread  and  yielded  so  as  to  leave  the  marks  of  the 
false  hoofs.  On  ordinary  ground  it  was  very  dif- 
ficult to  tell  their  footprints  from  those  of  the 
yearling  and  two-year-old  ranch  cattle. 

But  the  mountains  are  the  true  ground  for  the 
wapiti.  Here  he  must  be  hunted  on  foot,  and 
nowadays,  since  he  has  .grown  wiser,  skill  and 
patience,   and    the    capacity   to    endure   fatigue 


154    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

and  exposure  must  be  shown  by  the  successful 
hunter.  My  own  wapiti  hunting  has  been  done 
in  September  and  early  October  during  the 
height  of  the  rut,  and  therefore  at  a  time  when 
the  conditions  were  most  favorable  for  the  hunter. 
I  have  hunted  them  in  many  places  throughout 
the  Rockies,  from  the  Big  Horn  in  western 
Wyoming  to  the  Big  Hole  Basin  in  western  Mon- 
tana, close  to  the  Idaho  line.  Where  I  hunted, 
the  wapiti  were  always  very  noisy  both  by  day 
and  by  night,  and  at  least  half  of  the  bulls  that 
I  killed  attracted  my  attention  by  their  calling 
before  I  saw  either  them  or  their  tracks.  At 
night  they  frequently  passed  close  to  camp,  or 
came  nearly  up  to  the  picketed  horses,  challeng- 
ing all  the  time;  more  than  once  I  slipped  out, 
hoping  to  kill  one  by  moonlight,  but  I  never 
succeeded.  Occasionally,  when  they  were  plenti- 
ful, and  were  restless  and  always  roving  about, 
I  simply  sat  still  on  a  log,  until  one  gave  me  a 
chance.  Sometimes  I  came  across  them  while 
hunting  through  likely  localities,  going  up  or 
across  wind,  keeping  the  sharpest  lookout, 
and  moving  with  great  care  and  caution,  until 
I  happened  to  strike  the  animals  I  was  after. 
More  than  once  I  took  the  trail  of  a  band,  when 
out  with  some  first-class  woodsman,  and  after 
much  running,  dodging,  and  slipping  through 
the  timber,  overtook  the  animals  —  though  usu- 


The  Wapiti  or  Round-homed  Elk      155 

ally  when  thus  merely  following  the  trail  I  failed 
to  come  up  with  them.  On  two  different 
occasions  I  followed  and  came  up  to  bands, 
attracted  by  their  scent.  Wapiti  have  a  strong, 
and,  on  the  whole,  pleasing  scent,  like  that  of 
Alderney  cattle ;  although  in  old  bulls  it  becomes 
offensively  strong.  This  scent  is  very  penetrat- 
ing. I  once  smelt  a  herd  which  was  lying  quite 
still  taking  its  noonday  siesta,  certainly  half  a 
mile  to  the  windward  of  me ;  and  creeping  up 
I  shot  a  good  bull  as  he  lay.  On  another  occa- 
sion, while  working  through  the  tangled  trees  and 
underbrush  at  the  bottom  of  a  little  winding  val- 
ley, I  suddenly  smelt  wapiti  ahead,  and  without 
paying  any  further  attention  to  the  search  for 
tracks,  I  hunted  cautiously  up  the  valley,  and 
when  it  forked  was  able  to  decide  by  the  smell 
alone  which  way  the  wapiti  had  gone.  He  was 
going  up  wind  ahead  of  me,  and  his  ground-cover- 
ing walk  kept  me  at  a  trot  in  order  to  overtake 
him.  Finally  I  saw  him,  before  he  saw  me, 
and  then,  by  making  a  run  to  one  side,  got  a 
shot  at  him  when  he  broke  cover,  and  dropped 
him. 

It  is  exciting  to  creep  up  to  a  calling  wapiti. 
If  it  is  a  solitary  bull  he  is  apt  to  be  travelling, 
seeking  the  cows,  or  on  the  lookout  for  some 
rival  of  weaker  thews.  Under  such  circumstances, 
only  hard  running  will  enable  the  hunter  to  over- 


156    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

take  him,  unless  there  is  a  chance  to  cut  him  off. 
If,  however,  he  hears  another  bull,  or  has  a  herd 
under  him,  the  chances  are  that  he  is  nearly  sta- 
tionary, or  at  least  is  moving  slowly,  and  the 
hunter  has  every  opportunity  to  approach.  In 
a  herd  the  bull  himself  is  usually  so  absorbed 
both  with  his  cows  and  with  his  rivals  that  he  is 
not  at  all  apt  to  discover  the  approaching  hunter. 
The  cows,  however,  are  thoroughly  awake,  and 
it  is  their  eyes  and  keen  noses  for  which  the 
hunter  must  look  out.  A  solitary  bull  which  is 
answering  the  challenge  of  another  is  the  easiest 
of  all  to  approach.  Of  course,  if  there  has  been 
much  hunting,  even  such  a  bull  is  wary  and  is 
on  the  lookout  for  harm.  But  in  remote  localities 
he  becomes  so  absorbed  in  finding  out  the  where- 
abouts of  his  rival,  and  he  is  so  busy  answering 
the  latter's  challenges  and  going  through  motions 
of  defiance,  that  with  proper  care  it  is  compara- 
tively easy  to  approach  him.  Once,  when  within 
seventy  yards  of  such  a  bull,  he  partly  made  me 
out,  and  started  toward  me.  Evidently  he  could 
not  tell  exactly  what  I  was,  —  my  buckskin  shirt 
probably  helping  to  puzzle  him,  —  and  in  his 
anger  and  eagerness  he  did  not  think  of  danger 
until  it  was  too  late.  On  another  occasion  I  got 
up  to  two  bulls  that  were  fighting,  and  killed 
both.  In  the  fights,  weight  of  body  seems  to 
count  for  more  than  size  of  antlers. 


The  Wapiti  or  Round-homed  Elk      157 

Once  I  spent  the  better  part  of  a  day  in  following 
a  wapiti  bull  before  I  finally  got  him.  Generally 
when  hunting  wapiti  I  have  been  with  either  one 
of  my  men  from  the  ranch  or  a  hunter  like 
Tazewell  Woody,  or  John  Willis.  On  this  par- 
ticular occasion,  however,  I  happened  to  be  alone ; 
and  though  I  have  rarely  been  as  successful 
alone  as  when  in  the  company  of  some  thoroughly 
trained  and  experienced  plainsman  or  mountain- 
man,  yet  when  success  does  come  under  such 
circumstances,  it  is  always  a  matter  of  peculiar 
pride. 

At  the  time,  I  was  camped  in  a  very  beautiful 
valley  high  among  the  mountains  which  divide 
southwestern  Montana  from  Idaho.  The  weather 
was  cold,  and  there  were  a  couple  of  inches  of 
snow  on  the  ground,  so  that  the  conditions  were 
very  favorable  for  tracking  and  stalking.  The 
country  was  well  wooded,  but  the  forest  was  not 
dense,  and  there  were  many  open  glades.  Early 
one  morning,  just  about  dawn,  the  cook,  who  had 
been  up  for  a  few  minutes,  waked  me,  to  say  that 
a  bull  wapiti  was  calling  not  far  off.  I  rolled  out 
of  my  bed  and  was  dressed  in  short  order. 
The  bull  had  by  this  time  passed  the  camp,  and: 
was  travelling  toward  a  range  of  mountains  on 
the  other  side  of  the  stream  which  ran  down  the 
valley  bottom.  He  was  evidently  not  alarmed,  for 
he  was  still  challenging.     I  gulped  down  a  cup  of 


158    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

hot  coffee,  munched  a  piece  of  hardtack,  and 
thrust  four  or  five  other  pieces  and  a  cold  elk 
tongue  into  my  hunting-shirt,  and  then,  as  it  had 
grown  light  enough  to  travel,  started  after  the 
wapiti.  I  supposed  that  in  a  few  minutes  I 
should  either  have  overtaken  him  or  abandoned 
the  pursuit,  and  I  took  the  food  with  me  simply 
because  in  the  wilderness  it  never  pays  to  be 
unprepared  for  emergencies.  The  wisdom  of  such 
a  course  was  shown  in  this  instance  by  the  fact 
that  I  did  not  see  camp  again  until  long  after 
dark. 

I  at  first  tried  to  cut  off  the  wapiti  by  trotting 
through  the  woods  toward  the  pass  for  which  I 
supposed  he  was  headed.  The  morning  was  cold, 
and,  as  always  happens  at  the  outset  when  one 
starts  to  take  violent  exercise  under  such  circum- 
stances, the  running  caused  me  to  break  into  a 
violent  perspiration ;  so  that  the  first  time  I 
stopped  to  listen  for  the  wapiti  a  regular  fog 
rose  over  my  glasses  and  then  froze  on  them. 
I  could  not  see  a  thing,  and  after  wiping  them 
found  I  had  to  keep  gently  moving  in  order  to 
prevent  them  from  clouding  over  again.  It  is  on 
such  cold  mornings,  or  else  in  very  rainy  weather, 
that  the  man  who  has  not  been  gifted  with  good 
eyes  is  most  sensible  of  his  limitations.  I  once 
lost  a  caribou  which  I  had  been  following  at 
speed  over  the  snow  because  when  I  came  into 


The  Wapiti  or  Round-homed  Elk      159 

sight  and  halted  the  moisture  instantly  formed 
and  froze  on  my  glasses  so  that  I  could  not  see 
anything,  and  before  I  got  them  clear  the  game 
had  vanished.  Whatever  happened,  I  was  bound 
that  I  should  not  lose  this  wapiti  from  a  similar 
accident. 

However,  when  I  next  heard  him  he  had  evi- 
dently changed  his  course  and  was  going  straight 
away  from  me.  The  sun  had  now  risen,  and 
following  after  him  I  soon  found  his  tracks.  He 
was  walking  forward  with  the  regular  wapiti 
stride,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  I  had  a  long 
chase  ahead  of  me.  We  were  going  up  hill,  and 
though  I  walked  hard,  I  did  not  trot  until  we 
topped  the  crest.  Then  I  jogged  along  at  a  good 
gait,  and  as  I  had  on  moccasins,  and  the  woods 
were  open,  I  did  not  have  to  exercise  much 
caution.  Accordingly,  I  gained,  and  felt  I  was 
about  to  come  up  with  him,  when  the  wind 
brought  down  from  very  far  off  another  challenge. 
My  bull  heard  it  before  I  did,  and  instantly 
started  toward  the  spot  at  a  trot.  There  was  not 
the  slightest  use  of  my  attempting  to  keep  up 
with  this,  and  I  settled  down  into  a  walk.  Half 
an  hour  afterward  I  came  over  a  slight  crest,  and 
immediately  saw  a  herd  of  wapiti  ahead  of  me, 
across  the  valley  and  on  an  open  hillside.  The 
herd  was  in  commotion,  the  master  bull  whistling 
vigorously  and  rounding  up  his  cows,  evidently 


160    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

much  excited  at  the  new  bull  having  approached. 
There  were  two  or  three  yearlings  and  two-year- 
old  bulls  on  the  outskirts  of  the  herd,  and  the 
master  bull,  whose  temper  had  evidently  not  been 
improved  by  the  coming  of  the  stranger,  charged 
these  and  sent  them  rattling  off  through  the 
bushes.  The  ground  was  so  open  between  me 
and  them  that  I  dared  not  venture  across  it,  and 
I  was  forced  to  lie  still  and  await  developments. 
The  bull  I  had  been  following  and  the  herd 
bull  kept  challenging  vigorously,  but  the  former 
probably  recognized  in  the  latter  a  heavier 
animal,  and  could  not  rouse  his  courage  to  the 
point  of  actually  approaching  and  doing  battle. 
It  by  no  means  follows  that  the  animal  with 
the  heaviest  body  has  the  best  antlers,  but  the 
hesitation  thus  shown  by  the  bull  I  was  follow- 
ing made  me  feel  that  the  other  would  probably 
yield  the  most  valuable  trophies,  and  after  a 
couple  of  hours  I  made  up  my  mind  to  try  to 
get  near  the  herd,  abandoning  the  animal  I  had 
been  after. 

The  herd  showed  but  little  symptoms  of  mov- 
ing, the  cows  when  let  alone  scattering  out  to 
graze,  and  some  of  them  even  lying  down.  Ac- 
cordingly, I  did  not  hurry  myself,  and  spent  con- 
siderably over  an  hour  in  slipping  off  to  the  right 
and  approaching  through  a  belt  of  small  firs. 
Unfortunately,   however,  the   wind    had    slightly 


The  Wapiti  or  Round-homed  Elk      161 

shifted,  and  while  I  was  out  of  sight  of  the  herd 
they  had  also  come  down  toward  the  spot  from 
whence  I  had  been  watching  them.  Accord- 
ingly, just  as  I  was  beginning  to  creep  forward 
with  the  utmost  caution,  expecting  to  see  them  at 
any  moment,  I  heard  a  thumping  and  cracking  of 
branches  that  showed  they  were  on  the  run.  With 
wapiti  there  is  always  a  chance  of  overtaking 
them  after  they  have  first  started,  because  they 
tack  and  veer  and  halt  to  look  around.  Accord- 
ingly I  ran  forward  as  fast  as  I  could  through  the 
woods ;  but  when  I  came  to  the  edge  of  the  fir 
belt  I  saw  that  the  herd  were  several  hundred 
yards  off.  They  were  clustered  together  and 
looking  back,  and  saw  me  at  once. 

Off  they  started  again.  The  old  bull,  however, 
had  neither  seen  me  nor  smelt  me,  and  when  I 
heard  his  whistle  of  rage  I  knew  he  had  mis- 
interpreted the  reason  for  the  departure  of 
his  cows,  and  in  another  moment  he  came  in 
sight,  evidently  bent  on  rounding  them  up. 
On  his  way  he  attacked  and  drove  off  one  of 
the  yearlings,  and  then  took  after  the  cows, 
while  the  yearling  ran  toward  the  outlying  bull. 
The  latter  evidently  failed  to  understand  what 
had  happened ;  at  least  he  showed  no  signs  of 
alarm.  Neither,  however,  did  he  attempt  to 
follow  the  fleeing  herd,  but  started  off  again  on 
his  own  line. 


1 62    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

I  was  sure  the  herd  would  not  stop  for  some 
miles,  and  accordingly  I  resumed  my  chase  of  the 
single  bull.  He  walked  for  certainly  three  miles 
before  he  again  halted,  and  I  was  then  half  a  mile 
behind  him.  On  this  occasion  he  struck  a  small 
belt  of  woodland  and  began  to  travel  to  and  fro 
through  it,  probably  with  an  idea  of  lying  down. 
I  was  able  to  get  up  fairly  close  by  crawling  on 
all  fours  through  the  snow  for  part  of  the  dis- 
tance; but  just  as  I  was  about  to  fire  he  moved 
slightly,  and  though  my  shot  hit  him,  it  went  a 
little  too  far  back.  He  plunged  over  the  hill 
crest  and  was  off  at  a  gallop,  and  after  running 
forward  and  failing  to  overtake  him  in  the  first 
rush,  I  sat  down  to  consider  matters.  The  snow 
had  begun  to  melt  under  the  sun,  and  my  knees 
and  the  lower  parts  of  my  sleeves  were  wet  from 
my  crawl,  and  I  was  tired  and  hungry  and  very 
angry  at  having  failed  to  kill  the  wapiti.  It  was, 
however,  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  I  thought 
that  if  I  let  the  wapiti  alone  for  an  hour,  he  would 
lie  down,  and  then  grow  stiff  and  reluctant  to  get 
up;  while  in  the  snow  I  was  sure  I  could  easily 
follow  his  tracks.  Therefore  I  ate  my  lunch  and 
then  swallowed  some  mouthfuls  of  snow  in  lieu 
of  drinking. 

An  hour  afterward  I  took  up  the  trail.  It  was 
evident  the  bull  was  hard  hit,  but  even  after  he 
had  changed   his  plunging  gallop  for  a  trot  he 


The  Wapiti  or  Round-homed  Elk      163 

showed  no  signs  of  stopping ;  fortunately  his  trail 
did  not  cross  any  other.  The  blood  signs  grew 
infrequent,  and  two  or  three  times  he  went  up 
places  which  made  it  difficult  for  me  to  believe 
he  was  much  hurt.  At  last,  however,  I  came  to 
where  he  had  lain  down ;  but  he  had  risen  again 
and  gone  forward.  For  a  moment  I  feared  that 
my  approach  had  alarmed  him,  but  this  was  evi- 
dently not  the  case,  for  he  was  now  walking.  I 
left  the  trail,  and  turning  to  one  side  below  the 
wind  I  took  a  long  circle  and  again  struck  back 
to  the  bottom  of  the  valley  down  which  the  wapiti 
had  been  travelling.  The  timber  here  was  quite 
thick,  and  I  moved  very  cautiously,  continually 
halting  and  listening,  for  five  or  ten  minutes. 
Not  a  sound  did  I  hear,  and  I  crossed  the  valley 
bottom  and  began  to*  ascend  the  other  side  with- 
out finding  the  trail.  Unless  he  had  turned  off 
up  the  mountains  I  knew  that  this  meant  he  must 
have  lain  down ;  so  I  retraced  my  steps  and  with 
extreme  caution  began  to  make  my  way  up  the 
valley.  Finally  I  came  to  a  little  opening,  and 
after  peering  about  for  five  minutes  I  stepped 
forward,  and  instantly  heard  a  struggling  and 
crashing  in  a  clump  of  young  spruce  on  the 
other  side.  It  was  the  wapiti  trying  to  get  on 
his  feet.  I  ran  forward  at  my  best  pace,  and  as 
he  was  stiff  and  slow  in  his  movements  I  wras 
within  seventy  yards  before  he  got  fairly  under 


1 64    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

way.  Dropping  on  one  knee  I  fired  and  hit  him 
in  the  flank.  At  the  moment  I  could  not  tell 
whether  or  not  I  had  missed  him,  for  he  gave  no 
sign ;  but,  running  forward  very  fast,  I  speedily 
saw  him  standing  with  his  head  down.  He 
heard  me  and  again  started,  but  at  the  third 
bullet  down  he  went  in  his  tracks,  the  antlers 
clattering  loudly  on  the  branches  of  a  dead 
tree. 

The  snow  was  melting  fast,  and  for  fear  it  might 
go  off  entirely,  so  that  I  could  not  follow  my  back 
track,  I  went  up  the  hillside  upon  which  the  wap- 
iti lay,  and  taking  a  dead  tree  dragged  it  down 
to  the  bottom,  leaving  a  long  furrow.  I  then 
repeated  the  operation  on  the  opposite  hillside, 
thus  making  a  trace  which  it  was  impossible  for 
any  one  coming  up  or  down  the  valley  to  overlook  ; 
and  having  conned  certain  landmarks  by  which 
the  valley  itself  could  be  identified,  I  struck 
toward  camp  at  a  round  trot ;  for  I  knew  that  if 
I  did  not  get  into  the  valley  where  the  tent  lay 
before  dark,  I  should  have  to  pass  the  night  out. 
However,  the  last  uncertain  light  of  dusk  just 
enabled  me  to  get  over  a  spur  from  which  I 
could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  camp-fire,  and  as 
I  stumbled  toward  it  through  the  forest  I  heard 
a  couple  of  shots,  which  showed  that  the  cook 
and  packer  were  getting  anxious  as  to  my  where- 
abouts. 


THE    DEER   AND   THE    ELK    OF   THE 
PACIFIC   COAST 

T.  S.  Van  Dyke 


CHAPTER    I 

THE  ELK  OF  THE  PACIFIC  COAST 

The  elk  was  once  found  on  the  great  prairies 
of  the  Mississippi  watershed.  But  so  was  the 
deer.  For  there  were  belts  of  timber  lakes  sur- 
rounded with  a  heavy  growth  of  reeds,  and  swales 
full  of  slough  grass  with  plenty  of  rough  cover 
about  the  bluffs  and  river-bottoms  that  intersected 
it  in  all  places.  But  who  would  expect  the  elk  to 
be  at  home  where  the  land  was  too  bare  for  the 
deer,  and  only  the  antelope  roamed  the  many 
leagues  that  seemed  fit  but  for  wild  cattle  and 
horses.  Yet  it  seems  certain  that  the  bands  of 
elk  that  once  roamed  the  great  San  Joaquin  Val- 
ley in  California  surpassed  all  that  has  been  told 
in  song  or  story  about  the  elk  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain parks  or  plateaus.  Leagues  away  from  any- 
thing approaching  cover,  they  lived  upon  plains 
as  open  as  any  on  which  the  buffalo  ever  flour- 
ished. For  before  the  discovery  of  gold  there 
was  no  demand  for  them  except  at  long  intervals, 
when  a  travelling  native  found  it  a  little  easier  to 
lasso  one  for  camp  than  one  of  the  cattle  that  on 

167 


1 68  The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

the  great  expanse  were  about  as  swift  of  foot  and 
even  more  wild. 

But  the  miners  soon  created  a  demand  for  meat, 
and  travelling  bands  of  explorers  also  murdered 
everything  in  sight  much  as  the  white  man  always 
does.  Even  the  great  novelist  Dumas  turned 
market  hunter  as  soon  as  he  landed  here  in  1849, 
and  one  of  his  first  performances  was  to  kill  an 
elk  in  the  Sacramento  Valley,  on  whose  wide 
plains  bands  were  roaming  the  same  as  cattle. 

It  was  but  a  short  time  before  the  newcomers 
began  to  make  great  corrals  with  wings  of  miles 
in  length,  into  which  they  drove  wild  cattle  and 
horses,  for  there  were  thousands  that  had  never 
felt  the  branding  iron  and  no  one  claimed.  Along 
with  them  went  antelope  and  elk  in  great  numbers, 
and  their  fate  was  the  same.  Some  of  the  meat  was 
sold  fresh  and  some  dried,  but  waste  and  destruc- 
tion was  the  rule ;  and  the  big  bands  of  elk  began 
to  seek  the  cover  of  the  great  tule  marshes  along 
the  streams  and  lagoons.  The  tule  is  a  spongy, 
round  reed,  some  fifteen  feet  long,  growing  from 
shallow  water,  and  so  dense  that  half  a  dozen 
stalks  to  the  square  foot,  an  inch  to  an  inch  and 
a  half  in  diameter,  are  common.  Back  of  this,  on 
the  dryer  ground,  are  cattails  and  flag,  very  rank 
and  tall,  so  that  the  whole  is  about  equal  to  the 
heaviest  canebrake,  though  not  quite  as  stiff  in  the 
individual  stalk.     Most  of  the  lakes  and  sloughs 


The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast         169 

of  the  San  Joaquin  Valley  are  very  broad  and 
shallow,  with  a  vast  margin  between  high  and  low 
water  that  has  a  dense  growth  of  this  cover,  which 
also  runs  over  many  of  the  islands  of  the  rivers 
far  up  the  Sacramento  and  the  other  streams  lead- 
ing into  San  Francisco  Bay. 

Instead  of  going  to  the  mountains,  which  spread 
their  robes  of  chaparral  and  timber  down  to  the 
edge  of  the  plains  and  higher  up  offering  fastnesses 
as  good  as  any  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the  elk 
retreated  from  the  open  plains  with  the  advent  of 
the  American,  and  hid  in  the  vast  tule  swamps 
that  covered  hundreds  of  thousands  of  acres. 
Here  they  made  great  trails  that  ramified  until 
lost  in  myriad  mazes,  while  hogs  that  had  gone 
wild  made  it  extremely  interesting  for  the  hunter 
who  dared  enter  on  foot,  especially  if  he  had  a  dog 
to  retreat  between  his  legs  at  the  first  charge  of  a 
big  boar.  As  it  was  impossible  to  see  any  dis- 
tance even  on  horseback,  and  the  mud  was  too 
thick  for  horses,  the  elk  were  quite  safe  for  a  time. 
But  as  the  swamps  began  to  be  drained  and  the 
cover  burned  off,  and  roads  made  through  the 
drying  ground,  it  was  again  the  same  old  story  of 
the  white  man.  By  1875  the  antelope  were  a  curi- 
osity on  the  great  plains,  where  so  many  thousands 
lately  glimmered  through  the  dancing  heat,  while 
the  elk  were  almost  as  rare  in  the  great  tule 
swamps  that  so  lately  seemed  inaccessible.     By 


170  The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

1SS5  only  one  band  was  left,  and  that  was  on  the 
immense  ranch  of  Miller  and  Lux  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  valley,  some  twenty  miles  from  Bakers- 
field.  In  1895,  when  I  last  saw  this  herd,  it  was 
under  rigid  protection  of  the  herdsmen  of  the 
ranch,  and  though  even  wilder  than  in  the  years 
gone  by,  and  roaming  a  part  of  the  Coast  Range 
where  the  grizzly  yet  laughed  at  his  pursuers,  no 
one  ventured  to  trouble  them.  They  then  num- 
bered about  twenty-eight.  It  is  said  there  are 
now  over  one  hundred,  and  they  have  been  turned 
over  to  the  care  of  the  Lodge  of  Elks  in  Bakers- 
field.  But  the  turning  over  is  merely  nominal, 
for  they  are  as  wild  as  ever.  It  means  only  that 
any  man  who  dares  shoot  one  will  repent  it. 
These  are  the  last  wild  elk  known  south  of 
Mendocino  or  Humboldt  County  in  the  far  north 
of  the  state  —  the  lonely  survivors  of  countless 
thousands. 

South  of  this  point  some  fifty  miles  the  great 
valley  is  brought  to  a  close  by  the  Sierra  Nevada 
swinging  around  to  join  the  Coast  Range.  But 
in  doing  so  it  falls  several  thousand  feet  into  the 
low  pass  of  Tehachipi,  through  which  the  South- 
ern Pacific  Railroad  goes.  This  is  broad,  open 
and  low  and  has  for  a  century  been  a  thoroughfare 
for  cattle,  antelope,  and  everything  else  that  travels. 
South  of  it  in  Antelope  Valley  is  as  good  feed  as 
in  the  San  Joaquin,  while  farther  south  is  still 


The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast  171 

better  pasturage  with  abundance  of  country  in 
the  mountains  that  is  the  natural  home  of  the 
deer.  Yet  I  can  find  no  evidence  of  the  elk  ever 
having  passed  south  of  this  mysterious  line, 
though  so  open  and  so  easy.  The  oldest  Indian 
and  Mexican  settlers  know  nothing  of  him  even 
by  tradition,  except  as  the  great  alee  of  the  north- 
ern plains. 

Nor  does  he  seem  to  have  gone  into  the  high 
ranges  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  even  in  summer, 
though  nothing  is  wanting  there  that  an  elk 
should  desire  to  complete  his  happiness.  Heavy 
forests,  broad  meadows,  rocky  glens,  secluded 
thickets,  and  all  that  one  could  wish  he  ignored 
to  stay  on  the  great,  dry,  blazing  plains ;  and  left 
them  only  for  the  still  less  attractive  tule  swamps. 
No  trace  is  found  of  his  existence  over  the  range 
on  the  east,  and  strangely  enough  he  does  not 
seem  to  have  spent  much  time  in  the  Coast 
Range.  Much  less  did  he  cross  it,  and  scarcely 
ever  was  seen  on  the  rich  slopes  that  roll  away  to 
the  silvery  sea  in  such  long  swells  of  the  finest 
feed  in  the  world.  He  appears  no  more  until  we 
reach  the  great  redwoods  of  the  northern  coast  of 
California,  where  he  made  his  last  camp.  Here 
the  vast  forest  with  its  tremendous  undergrowth 
maintained  him  for  a  time,  but  the  insatiate  greed 
of  the  white  man  for  "  heads  "  and  for  elk  teeth 
for  watch-charms  was  fast  consigning  this  grand 


172  The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

deer  to  the  things  that  were,  when  the  hand 
of  the  law  stepped  in.  Public  sentiment  sustains 
the  law,  and  few  are  those  who  now  dare  molest 
the  elk  that  remain.  But  for  their  remoteness 
they  would  long  since  have  been  sought  out,  but 
it  was  too  far  from  market  in  early  days,  and  was 
always  uncomfortably  wild  for  the  tenderfoot  and 
his  murderous  guide. 

In  Oregon  the  elk  fared  better,  and  better  yet 
in  Washington  and  British  Columbia,  though 
murdered  by  thousands.  But  the  vast  forests 
were  too  big  for  the  leg,  if  not  for  the  heart,  of 
man.  Thousands  of  square  miles  yet  remain 
where  the  foot  of  man  is  hardly  known,  thou- 
sands more  where  it  is  very  difficult  for  him  to 
go  with  a  horse  and  almost  useless  to  go  without 
one.  This  leaves  plenty  of  room  for  one  who 
can  find  pleasure  in  hunting  such  a  grand  ani- 
mal and  be  satisfied  with  one  or  two.  Hence 
there  are  still  large  areas  on  the  upper  coast 
where  the  elk  is  yet  very  abundant  and  always 
will  be.  And  here,  and  not  in  California,  is  where 
he  should  be  sought  by  one  who  wants  to  see  him 
at  his  best  in  the  most  splendid  home  nature  has 
given  his  race. 

Modes  of  hunting  elk  on  the  Pacific  coast 
have  always  been  of  the  simplest  kind.  There 
were  no  greater  hunters  in  the  world  than  the 
old  Spanish  Californians,  who  lassoed  the  largest 


The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast         173 

grizzlies  by  the  light  of  the  moon  and  dragged 
them  bound  on  rawhide  to  fight  the  wild  bull  of 
the  hills  at  their  numerous  fiestas.  To  them  the 
gun  was  ridiculous  for  such  work,  and  generally 
the  last  thing  they  used  on  game.  They  had 
their  pick  of  horses  which,  for  their  weight  and  for 
swift  work  on  rough  ground,  have  had  no  superiors 
in  the  world.  To  run  down  an  elk  and  rope  it 
was  for  them  a  trick  so  simple  that  they  never  did 
it  unless  for  a  change  of  meat.  They  had  thou- 
sands of  cattle  raised  only  for  their  hides  and 
tallow ;  and  why  kill  an  elk  when  no  more  skill 
was  required  than  to  rope  a  cow?  They  rarely 
failed  to  uncoil  the  rope  for  a  deer  if  they  could 
catch  one  far  enough  from  the  hills,  and  they 
loved  to  match  their  fleetest  horses  against  the 
antelope ;  while  they  rarely  failed  to  make  a  dash 
at  a  coyote  or  a  wolf  when  the  plain  gave  a  good 
chance  for  a  race.  The  great  herds  of  elk,  how- 
ever, they  rode  by,  not  in  disdain,  but  with  none 
of  the  American's  love  of  murder. 

But  the  miners  came,  and  they  brought  a  string 
of  camp  followers,  with  gamblers  and  loafers  of 
every  kind  who  loved  play  better  than  mining. 
These  speedily  went  to  work  like  swine  in  a 
garden  of  roses.  Delighted  to  find  that  he  could 
ride  into  a  band  of  elk  without  tumbling  off  the 
horse,  the  new  American  cowboy  rioted  in  herds 
where  he  could  put  a  pistol  against  the  flank  of 


174  The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

the  biggest  bull,  most  of  them  being  so  clumsy 
that  any  fool  that  could  coil  a  noose  could  lasso 
one.  For  a  time  this  murder  was  the  only  hunt- 
ing done  for  elk.  But  as  they  began  to  retreat 
to  the  cover  of  the  tules,  and  the  price  of  meat 
rose  with  the  demand  from  the  mines,  the  natives 
began  to  watch  for  elk  outside  the  tules  at  day- 
light, while  hunters  by  the  score  with  rifles  fol- 
lowed them  in  all  directions.  In  the  northern 
part  of  the  state  the  elk  left  the  valleys  as  early 
as  1855,  to  retire  to  the  majestic  silence  of  the 
great  redwoods  of  the  Coast  Range,  where  he 
could  be  found  only  by  true  still-hunting.  And 
even  there  the  great  bands  were  no  longer  seen, 
but  only  scattered  bunches  of  a  dozen  or  so,  with 
plenty  of  single  ones.  The  day  passed  very 
quickly  when  one  could  go  wait  beside  some 
grassy  glade  to  see  a  score  come  in  from  the 
woods  to  feed,  and  stand  so  confused  when  the 
leader  fell  that  the  butcher  might  pile  the  rest 
almost  one  upon  another.  This  day  is  about 
gone  even  in  the  farther  north,  where  few  hunt- 
ers have  ever  penetrated,  for,  like  the  deer,  the 
elk  has  learned  from  civilization. 

In  judgment  of  a  certain  kind  the  elk  is  far 
superior  to  the  deer.  The  deer  merely  laughs 
at  civilization  so  long  as  it  gives  him,  leaves 
him,  a  certain  amount  of  cover  with  half  a 
chance  to  feed  and  rest.     He  cares  nothing  for 


The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast  175 

noise  if  not  too  close.  I  have  known  the  wildest 
Virginia  deer  lie  all  day  within  plain  sound  of 
the  axe,  and  where  the  choice  vocabulary  of  the 
teamsters  in  the  pinery  could  be  plainly  heard  in 
the  clear  cold  air.  Yet  by  no  amount  of  inge- 
nuity could  one  get  within  rifle  shot  unless  the 
combination  of  softness  in  the  snow,  openings 
in  the  brush  for  quiet  walking,  rolling  ground 
behind  which  to  keep  out  of  sight,  with  the  wind 
and  other  conditions  all  right,  conspired  to  help 
out  the  most  extreme  care  of  which  man  is 
capable.  So  I  have  known  the  mule-deer  time 
and  again  spend  the  day  on  the  hillside,  where 
he  can  plainly  hear  the  hunter  calling  up  his 
dogs,  and  discussing  with  his  companions  the 
chances  of  getting  venison.  And  generally  the 
chances  are  rarely  worse  than  on  just  such 
ground.  The  deer  seems  to  love  to  take 
chances  on  such  matters,  and  knows  so  well 
the  distance  of  sounds  that  he  is  rarely 
deceived  in  that  way.  For  the  report  of  a 
rifle  a  little  too  far  to  be  dangerous  he  cares 
no  more  than  for  distant  thunder,  trusting  to 
his  judgment  to  avoid  any  possible  interview 
with  the  owner  of  it. 

But  the  elk  will  have  none  of  this  intellectual 
treat.  Though  he  may  act  the  fool  worse  than 
any  of  the  deer  tribe  when  hit  with  a  bullet  or 
when  shot  at  close   by,   the   sound   of   shooting 


176  The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

is  apt  to  start  him  moving  out  of  the  country 
at  a  pace  few  care  to  follow.  He  knows  some- 
thing is  wrong,  and  cares  not  to  trust  himself 
to  decide  so  important  a  matter.  If  such  noise 
should  be  near  enough  to  alarm  a  deer,  he  would 
only  go  half  a  mile  or  so,  stop  and  look  around 
awhile,  go  another  quarter,  perhaps,  and  look  a 
little  more,  then  fall  to  feeding  a  bit,  listen 
awhile,  and  finally  lie  down  again,  within  sound, 
probably,  of  that  same  rifle.  But  the  elk  will 
travel  over  hill  and  dale,  crossing  vast  gulches 
and  scaling  stupendous  heights  for  league  upon 
league  until  away  beyond  all  danger.  And  even 
then  he  may  keep  travelling  for  a  day  or  two 
more.  No  matter  how  much  you  may  scare  the 
deer,  he  will  be  back  to  the  same  ground  before 
long,  for  he  has  been  twisting  and  turning  and 
doubling  on  his  course  during  most  of  the  run, 
however  long  it  may  be.  But  you  may  not  see 
the  elk  again  that  season  if  you  have  once  run 
him  out  with  noise.  And  it  is  almost  equally 
futile  to  try  to  overtake  him  in  a  stern  chase 
when  on  such  a  journey.  He  can  walk  too  fast 
and  too  far,  while  as  a  trotter  he  is  a  master  even 
among  great  windfalls.  With  his  long  legs  he 
can  cross  a  log  so  large  that  few  horses  care  to 
leap  it  even  where  raised  in  the  woods.  The 
great  horns,  which  look  all  the  time  as  if  they 
would  entangle  him  in  the  first  bush,  he  carries 


The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast         177 

with  lordly  grace  through  fallen  tree  tops,  tangles 
of  vine-maple,  ivy,  grapevine,  and  all  the  net- 
work of  the  woods,  the  same  as  a  deer,  which 
means  the  same  as  a  rabbit  or  bird.  Although 
his  weight  makes  the  track  of  his  big  hoof  very 
easy  to  follow  on  almost  any  kind  of  ground,  the 
contract  for  overhauling  him  is  a  good  one  to 
sublet.  For  even  if  you  succeed,  it  will  be 
leagues  away  from  your  starting-point  and 
probably  in  country  so  rough  that  you  cannot 
even  take  out  the  coveted  horns.  For  this  chase 
must  be  on  foot  for  much  chance  of  success. 
With  a  horse  you  are  apt  to  make  too  much 
noise  and  cannot  afford  the  time  to  stop  for 
him  to  feed.  You  will  probably  have  to  lie  out 
one  night  at  least,  and  have  to  make  camp 
where  night  overtakes  you  without  hunting 
feed  for  the  horse.  I  have  known  two  Indians 
follow  a  dozen  elk  on  snow  over  a  hundred  miles, 
and  would  not  have  overtaken  them  then  had 
the  elk  not  been  intercepted  by  a  hunter  with 
a  dog,  which  so  confused  them  they  huddled 
up  while  the  man  shot  the  whole  band.  This 
was  many  years  ago  in  Northern  Wisconsin, 
but  the  elk  is  the  same  traveller  all  over  the 
Pacific  coast. 

When  the  elk  once  starts  on  a  trip  even  when 
not  suspecting  danger  the  work  is  bad  enough, 
and  about  the  only  chance  there  is  for  the  hunter 


178  The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

nowadays  is  to  find  him  where  he  is  at  perfect 
rest.  That  is  where  everything  is  to  his  liking, 
but  especially  silence  and  remoteness  from  any 
trace  of  man,  or  any  of  his  works.  The  elk  is 
the  most  omnivorous  of  the  vegetarians.  He 
loved  all  the  wild,  dry  feed  of  California  as  much 
as  the  cattle  and  horses,  and  became  equally  fat 
on  it.  In  the  woods  he  likes  all  the  grasses, 
bushes,  and  herbs,  so  that  one  need  never 
inquire  on  what  he  is  feeding.  You  want 
mainly  to  know  whether  there  are  any  other 
hunters  ahead  of  you  on  his  range,  and  if  so 
you  may  almost  as  well  stay  home.  The  next 
question  is  that  of  feed  for  your  horse,  for  the 
elk  will  thrive  where  a  horse  will  starve.  And 
though  he  may  not  starve,  he  may  fall  off  so 
in  a  few  days  from  the  scarcity  of  grass  in  the 
deep  shades  that  you  may  have  to  come  out  on 
foot. 

You  should  also  go  prepared  to  camp  on  the 
trail  even  without  the  horse.  For  if  you  leave 
fresh  tracks  too  late  in  the  evening  to  work 
them  out,  and  attempt  to  go  to  a  distant  camp 
and  come  back  and  pick  them  up  again  in  the 
morning,  you  may  be  left  too  far  in  the  rear. 
This  trick,  that  can  so  often  be  used  to  advan- 
tage with  deer,  will  not  do  for  so  wide  a  ranger 
as  the  elk.  For  this  trip  neither  can  you  load 
yourself  down  with  a  blanket,  but  must  depend 


The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast         179 

on  fire  to  keep  you  warm ;  and  you  had  better 
carry  provisions  enough  for  at  least  two  days. 
For  a  good  chance  to  trail  up  a  band  of  elk,  or 
even  a  single  one,  is  now  so  rare  that  if  you  have 
gone  to  the  trouble  of  going  so  far  and  spending 
the  time  and  money  necessary,  you  cannot  afford 
to  let  the  question  of  comfort  interfere  with  your 
further  proceedings.  And  though  the  nights 
may  be  cold,  you  cannot  dress  very  warm,  as  you 
will  have  to  move  rapidly  by  day. 

Unless  you  have  a  very  rare  dog,  he  will  be  of 
little  or  no  use  to  you  in  this  chase.  You  must 
go  too  fast  for  him  to  "  slowtrack,"  and  you  can- 
not trust  him  to  bring  such  game  to  bay.  While 
elk  will  often  turn  and  fight  a  dog  much  more 
quickly  than  deer,  especially  cows  with  calves, 
they  are  more  likely  on  rough  ground  to  depend 
on  leaving  him  in  the  rear.  Or  if  the  dog  over- 
takes the  elk,  it  will  be  so  far  ahead  of  you  and  in 
such  broken  ground  that  before  you  can  come 
up  with  the  procession  the  dog  will  have  been 
whipped,  or  retired  to  some  bush  for  rest,  or  gone 
off  to  hunt  much-needed  water. 

Subject  to  these  inconveniences,  which,  for  a 
tough  person,  amount  to  almost  nothing,  such  a 
chase  will  take  you  now  among  the  grandest 
scenery  the  forest  primeval  has  left  to  offer.  On 
this  coast  are  still  millions  of  acres  where  the  axe 
has  left  no  scar,  some  of  it  too  rough  even  for  our 


1 80  The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

great  government  to  survey,  but  where  Nature 
has  done  all  she  could  to  pile  sublimity  on  high 
and  yet  leave  soil  enough  for  the  shaggy  robe  of 
timber  that  makes  the  mountains  still  the  home 
of  the  elk.  In  other  places  she  has  substituted 
shade  and  silence  hedged  about  with  such  a  vast 
tangle  of  green,  brown,  and  grey  from  great  trunks 
and  broken  limbs  that  you  feel  still  more  as  if  you 
were  living  in  a  different  sphere. 

Here  you  may  find  great  hills  standing  almost 
on  end,  ridge  joining  ridge  in  endless  chain,  where 
you  may  descend  a  thousand  feet  from  the  top 
only  to  find  it  break  off  in  a  precipice  of  dozens 
or  hundreds  of  feet  into  a  canyon  still  farther  be- 
low. Nowhere  can  you  find  a  place  where  you 
can  take  your  horse  down,  and  if  you  find  one 
where  you  can  make  a  toboggan  of  your  trousers, 
it  is  by  no  means  certain  that  you  can  return.  I 
was  once  on  such  a  ridge  for  four  days  with  a 
party  of  four  and  nine  horses.  It  was  but  six 
miles  long  and  not  over  two  thousand  feet  above 
the  gulches  that  yawned  all  around  it  into  the  dif- 
ferent forks  of  the  Coquille  River  in  Oregon,  yet 
we  had  to  spend  all  our  time  in  trying  to  descend 
to  the  river.  A  big  drove  of  elk  was  just  ahead 
of  us,  their  tracks  were  everywhere,  and  many 
more  were  on  the  same  ground.  Everything 
showed  that  we  were  in  their  chosen  home. 
There    was   hardly   a   sapling   of   any  size  from 


The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast  1 8 1 

which  a  long  strip  of  bark  had  not  been  rubbed 
by  the  elk  cleaning  the  velvet  from  their  horns, 
either  in  that  year  or  the  one  before.  Horns  in 
all  the  stages  of  decay  were  around  us,  with  elk 
trails  innumerable.  But  there  was  no  trail  of  man 
to  tell  us  where  we  could  go,  no  feed  but  wild 
peas  and  a  few  small  patches  of  grass  that  the 
horses  would  eat  up  over  night,  so  that  we  would 
have  to  move  on  in  the  morning.  Shade  almost 
solid  ruled  over  all.  The  Douglas  fir  towered 
one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  on  the  hills,  with  trunks 
like  shipmasts  mingling  their  feathery  tops  so  as 
to  shut  out  the  sun,  while  down  in  the  gulches 
the  great  Port  Orford  cedar  deluged  the  depths 
with  heavier  gloom.  Through  the  few  openings 
from  which  we  could  look  out  upon  the  world, 
there  was  nothing  in  sight  but  ridge  after  ridge, 
cutting  the  sky  line  with  serried  ranks  of  pine,  and 
great  gulches  between,  hazily  blue  with  solid  tim- 
ber. The  whole  was  interlaced  with  such  a  tangle 
of  fallen  trees  that  one  would  suppose  an  elk  safe 
anywhere. 

But  the  wary  animal  knew  better.  Though  no 
white  man  penetrated  those  shades  except  at  in- 
tervals of  years,  the  elk  took  no  chances  on  the 
movements  of  the  butcher.  Hence,  when  done 
feeding  he  wandered  off  to  the  heads  of  the  great 
slides  and  washes  that  broke  in  ragged  seams 
from  the  tumbling  hills.     There,  where  the  pine 


1 82  The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

sprung  in  lusty  life  from  the  chinks  in  great  layers 
of  conglomerate  that  looked  as  if  they  could  sup- 
port nothing,  and  giant  ferns  choked  the  spaces 
between  the  fallen  trunks  that  could  not  lie  save 
for  their  erect  brethren  which  held  them  in  place, 
the  elk  lay  down  to  ruminate.  One  would  sup- 
pose this  a  fine  place  to  slip  upon  him  and  take 
him  at  a  disadvantage.  And  so  it  was,  but  not 
exactly  like  slipping  upon  an  old  cow  under  a 
tree  in  the  pasture. 

In  the  first  place,  the  eye  becomes  so  used  to 
the  big  timber  that  after  a  while  it  begins  to  look 
much  smaller  than  it  really  is.  But  in  the  mean- 
time you  have  not  had  your  eye  fixed  on  elks' 
heads  so  as  to  see  how  they  dwindle  on  such  a 
landscape.  On  the  contrary,  they  increase  in  size 
in  proportion  to  the  time  you  spend  without  see- 
ing one.  So  that  when  you  do  see  it  you  may 
not  notice  the  tips  of  a  pair  of  mere  sticks  that, 
like  a  thousand  odd  bits  of  dead  branches,  rise 
just  a  little  over  the  level  of  the  fallen  logs.  If 
you  do,  and  recognize  the  points  by  their  sheen, 
you  may  have  an  easy  task,  for  the  elk  with  all  his 
care  to  keep  man  at  a  distance  is  a  great  fool 
when  he  fails.  When  man  is  near,  the  elk  is  an 
idiot  compared  with  the  deer  and  the  antelope. 
About  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  avoid  his  nose. 
You  need  trouble  yourself  little  about  those  senses 
that  make  the  deer  so  difficult  to  circumvent, — 


The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast  1 83 

sight  and  hearing.  Yet  if  he  does  see  you  and 
takes  a  notion  to  go,  it  may  be  but  one  plunge 
into  the  dark  depths  and  your  hunt  is  over  with 
that  one. 

Not  so  very  much  better  is  your  chance  when 
you  see  a  dark  brown  or  yellowish  gray  line  fade 
in  the  darkness  as  you  are  travelling  along.  The 
heavier  the  windfalls  the  faster  the  elk  seems  to 
go,  and  the  more  the  necessity  of  his  rising  into 
sight  to  pass  over  the  fallen  timber  as  the  deer 
does,  the  more  he  fails  to  swing  high  enough  to 
give  you  a  shot  from  the  saddle.  Vainly  you 
spring  from  the  horse  to  scramble  on  a  log  so  as 
to  get  high  enough.  By  the  time  you  are  there 
the  brown  or  gray  line  is  low,  or  perhaps  nothing 
is  in  sight  but  a  white  patch  that  makes  a  beauti- 
ful target  if  it  would  only  stay  in  view  long  enough 
for  you  to  raise  the  rifle. 

Yet  this  is  the  very  sublimity  of  forest,  draped 
in  silence  so  broad  and  impressive  that  you  can 
hear  the  distant  footfall  of  your  game,  and  still 
farther  off  hear  the  crack  of  brush  as  it  leaves 
you  forever.  Not  the  bark  of  a  squirrel  or  the 
chirp  of  a  bird  may  break  the  silence  for  hours. 
All  the  conditions  of  the  hunt  are  here,  nature 
at  her  grandest  and  wildest,  with  about  all  that 
you  call  success  depending  on  your  own  skill 
and  endurance. 

Such  is  much  of  the  country  you  will  now  find 


1 84  The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

in  the  lower  part  of  the  Coast  Range  of  Oregon, 
but  you  will  not  find  it  so  much  more  easy  in 
those  portions  of  the  Cascades  where  the  elk 
yet  lingers.  The  greater  part  of  this  range  is 
more  easy  to  penetrate  with  a  horse  on  account 
of  the  greater  abundance  of  grass.  Over  much 
of  it  one  can  also  go  with  a  wagon.  There  you 
may  find  the  deer  in  all  the  abundance  you  wish ; 
but  to  find  the  greater  elk  you  must  go  to  where 
the  streams  that  drain  the  mighty  western  face 
break  in  deep  gorges  from  the  upper  slopes. 
There  again  you  will  find  the  land  rising  on 
end  to  meet  you,  the  forest  shaggy  with  bristling 
trees  whose  tops  interlace  into  eternal  shade, 
torn  and  ragged  hillsides  where  the  fallen  logs 
almost  slide  at  your  touch,  jagged  rocks  that 
topple  over  depths  so  blue  that  you  dare  not 
step  on  them  to  look  for  your  game.  Many  a 
band  of  elk  yet  lingers  around  the  head  waters 
of  these  streams,  and  with  the  increasing  vege- 
tation, caused  by  stopping  the  fires  in  the  forest 
reserve,  they  will  all  increase  as  the  years  go  on 
and  interest  in  game  protection  proceeds  at  its 
present  pace.  But  even  if  you  should  fail  to  see 
one,  you  will  be  well  rewarded,  for  only  on  this 
northern  coast  can  Nature  duplicate  such  charms 
as  she  here  spreads  along  the  path  of  him  who 
loves  her  for  her  own  sake  instead  of  a  pair  of 
horns  to  fasten  on  a  wall. 


The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast  185 

Perhaps,  though,  you  are  not  adapted  to  climb- 
ing such  rough  hillsides  and  scrambling  over  such 
great  windfalls  on  slopes  so  steep  that  you  know 
not  where  you  may  land  on  the  other  side.  Well, 
in  the  deep  silence  where  the  redwoods  have  not 
yet  felt  the  hand  of  man,  you  may  find  smoother 
slopes  and  forest  aisles  that  reach  farther  with- 
out a  bend,  with  vaster  columns  of  fluted  brown 
supporting  the  great  canopy  of  green  that  shuts 
out  nearly  all  the  sun.  The  dim,  religious  light 
that  sleeps  in  this  great  temple  is  well  suited 
to  set  off  to  the  utmost  the  rich  colors  of  the  elk, 
but  you  must  have  keen  eyes  to  see.  If  you 
have  never  been  here  before,  you  will  naturally 
be  looking  for  something  the  size  of  a  horse  on 
the  open  plain,  with  the  additional  advantage  of 
horns  so  large  that  they  will  sparkle  afar  through 
the  gloom.  Little  do  you  imagine  that  you  cannot 
see  more  than  the  tips  of  them,  and  these  tips  so 
lost  in  the  great  jumble  of  dead  branches,  which 
twist  in  a  thousand  directions,  that  your  eye 
might  rest  on  them  without  recognition.  Even 
in  the  more  open  places  ferns  rise  upon  ferns  to 
hide  the  legs  of  the  tallest  elk,  while  salal  and 
a  score  of  other  shrubs  which  flourish  in  the 
shade  are  so  rank  that  a  patch  of  hair  is  the 
most  you  can  see.  And  if  your  game  starts  to 
run,  you  will  see  little  more  than  a  succession 
of  such  patches  moving  in  a  panorama  of  sur- 


1 86  The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

prising  shortness.  Yet  the  feeling  of  awe  which 
overcomes  you,  with  the  consciousness  that  the 
great  game  is  all  about  you,  staring  at  you,  per- 
haps, over  the  very  next  log,  and  that  nothing 
in  nature  is  at  fault  but  your  eyes,  makes  the 
hunt  a  continuous  pleasure,  though  it  is  very 
likely  to  end  about  where  it  began. 

And  thus  it  will  be  as  you  go  farther  into  the 
north,  where  the  increasing  rainfall  makes  the 
woods  more  sombre.  More  elk,  for  a  while,  at 
least;  but  also  more  ferns,  higher  salal,  ranker 
vine-maple,  more  expansive  salmon  berries,  and 
trees  standing  even  more  like  brothers,  with 
dimmer  light  falling  from  the  sky  through  the 
damper  air  and  more  sombre  shades  in  these 
shorter  corridors  of  the  forest.  With  the  increas- 
ing rain  come  increasing  wet  spots  that  may  bog 
your  horse,  an  increase  in  the  dampness  on  the  logs 
that  may  let  you  slide  off  into  some  mire  covered 
with  a  growth  of  ferns  so  rank  you  could  not  see 
it.  Windfalls  with  great  tangles  of  moss  adding  to 
the  confusion  of  the  vines  multiply,  fallen  trees 
piled  high  on  each  other  and  becoming  all  the  time 
more  difficult  to  go  around  as  well  as  to  cross  over, 
confront  you,  until  at  last  the  obstacles  are  such 
that  the  best  horse  is  a  burden  to  you.  It  is  not 
much  farther  to  where  you  are  a  burden  to  your- 
self, where  you  could  not  see  an  elk  if  there  were 
a  score  within  a  few  rods,  where  you  would  not 


The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast  187 

attempt  to  alone  pack  out  the  finest  horns  in  the 
woods,  and  where  you  might  never  be  able  to  find 
them  again  if  you  left  them  to  go  for  help.  Im- 
mense areas  of  such  ground  yet  remain  that  for 
ages  will  remain  the  nursery  of  the  elk ;  but  on 
the  great  plains  and  lower  slopes  of  California,  as 
well  as  in  the  more  open  woods  of  the  Coast 
Range  and  the  beautiful  upper  slopes  of  most  of 
the  Cascades,  he  is  gone  probably  forever.  For, 
while  easily  tamed  and  restored  in  a  park,  there 
will  always  be  too  much  shooting  on  these 
grounds  to  suit  him,  with  too  many  hunters 
who  will  evade  the  law  often  enough  to  make  it 
a  little  too  human  for  the  taste  of  this  fastidious 
deer. 

Nothing  can  be  done  with  the  elk  by  fire  hunt- 
ing, because  he  moves  so  little  at  night,  and  he 
cares  so  little  for  salt  on  this  coast  that  a  salt 
lick  is  of  no  use.  Driving  with  hounds,  as  with 
deer,  is  quite  out  of  the  question,  so  that  the 
hunting  is  narrowed  down  to  still-hunting.  Deer 
care  little  for  dogs,  but  have  a  mortal  fear  of  the 
sly  step  of  man,  and  the  elk  has  even  greater 
fear.  It  would  be  strange,  therefore,  if  still-hunt- 
ing, which  so  quickly  changes  the  habits  of  the 
deer  and  even  the  antelope,  should  not  have  the 
same  effect  on  the  elk.  Deer  soon  learn  to  feed 
entirely  by  night  where  it  is  too  dangerous  by 
day,  as  in  a  vineyard  or  alfalfa  patch,  and  even 


1 88  The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

when  on  native  feed  learn  to  stop  sooner  and  go 
much  farther  back  into  rougher  ground  to  lie 
down.  The  elk  is  naturally  a  day  feeder,  though, 
like  the  cow  and  the  horse,  he  can  eat  at  night  if 
he  chooses.  It  has  not  taken  him  long  to  learn 
that  it  is  far  safer  to  breakfast  before  daylight 
and  get  out  of  the  way,  to  go  without  lunch  and 
dine  very  late,  so  as  to  remain  during  the  day 
stowed  away  in  some  wild  place  where  no  man  is 
likely  to  intrude.  He  used  to  love  the  open  sand- 
bar of  a  stream  to  lie  on  during  the  day  in  order 
to  escape  flies  or  mosquitoes.  He  now  finds  it 
safer  to  bear  a  few  flies  for  the  sake  of  keeping 
out  of  sight.  So  he  used  to  lie  in  the  sun  at 
times,  to  harden  his  horns,  as  the  old  hunters 
say.  But  now  he  is  an  ardent  admirer  of  shade, 
and  cares  little  for  sunshine  except  on  cold  days 
or  frosty  mornings.  And  even  then  you  had 
better  spend  most  of  your  time  looking  for  him 
in  shade,  that  will  hide  his  coat  better  than  sun- 
shine. But  he  has  not  yet  learned  the  advantage 
of  silence,  as  has  the  quail  of  this  coast  in  the 
last  few  years,  so  that  his  shrill  whistle  of  defiance 
to  some  rival  bull  still  pierces  the  depths  of  the 
forest  in  rutting  time,  and  gives  even  the  tyro  the 
best  of  opportunities  for  his  undoing. 

It  seems  an  incongruity  in  nature  that  this 
grand  deer,  which  appeals  so  vividly  to  our  im- 
agination, and  in  everything  imposing  easily  sur- 


The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast  189 

passes  all  the  antlered  tribes  of  earth,  should  fall 
such  an  easy  victim  to  the  tenderfoot  just  at  the 
time  when  it  would  seem  the  most  easy  to  escape. 
But  the  elk  often  fails  just  where  the  deer  begins 
to  show  his  wisdom.  With  the  deer  the  hunter's 
real  troubles  generally  begin  when  he  is  within  a 
few  hundred  feet  of  his  game,  but  with  the  elk 
they  generally  end  at  such  a  point.  Too  often, 
when  one  simple  twist  around  a  big  log  would 
take  him  out  of  sight,  and  when  a  dozen  little 
rough  gulches,  such  as  shelter  him  so  well  when 
lying  down,  are  there  ready  to  engulf  his  fleeting 
form,  he  will  stand  like  a  goose  and  await  the 
hunter's  lead.  And  then,  instead  of  running  away 
like  the  stricken  deer,  the  elk  often  stands  to  see 
if  there  is  any  more  coming.  More  easy  to  hit 
and  more  easy  to  kill,  ignorant  of  the  many  ways 
in  which  the  deer  throws  his  pursuer  off  his 
bleeding  trail,  the  elk  is  quite  apt  to  be  too  easy 
a  victim  for  almost  any  one  with  a  good  rifle 
who  can  once  get  within  fair  shooting  distance. 
But  just  there  is  the  rub.  While  the  elk  has 
learned  little  about  handling  himself  in  the  im- 
mediate presence  of  man,  he  knows  better  than 
all  other  game  how  to  beat  him  with  distance. 
And  in  this  he  improves  each  year,  although  he 
may  not  see  a  man  or  hear  the  sound  of  a  rifle 
in  all  that  time.  It  seems  a  wonderful  intuition, 
with  which  he  is  gifted  even  more  than  the  bear. 


190  The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

The  elk  of  California,  especially  on  the  southern 
valley,  is  a  trifle  smaller  than  that  of  the  farther 
north  and  a  little  smaller  than  the  elk  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  But  the  difference  is  not 
very  great.  A  good  bull  stands  about  fourteen 
hands  high,  or  about  the  height  of  the  native 
horse.  Farther  north,  larger  ones  are  found,  and 
some  of  the  grandest  horns  ever  seen  have  come 
out  of  the  deep  dark  woods,  where  one  might 
suppose  nature  would  make  the  horns  smaller  so 
as  to  enable  the  animal  to  thread  the  heavy  brakes 
with  greater  ease.  Like  elk  elsewhere,  they  vary 
very  much  in  the  horns,  as  also  in  size,  weight, 
and  proportions.  It  is  doubtful  if  any  California 
elk  ever  weighed  over  eight  hundred  pounds 
unless  unusually  fat,  while  the  majority  run  much 
below  that. 

The  general  colors  are  the  same  as  those  of  elk 
elsewhere,  with  the  same  general  build.  In  fact, 
he  has  suffered  less  from  change  of  habitat  than 
almost  any  of  our  large  game  animals.  His  natural 
history,  times,  and  mode  of  breeding,  and  all  else, 
are  much  the  same  as  elsewhere,  except  where 
persecution  has  compelled  him  to  abandon  some 
of  his  old  habits  that  might  lead  him  into  trouble, 
such  as  spending  too  much  time  wallowing  in 
mudholes,  standing  around  in  open  water,  lying 
out  in  the  open  in  large  droves,  migrating  on 
old  well-worn  trails,  etc.     He  seems  to  know  more 


The  Elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast  191 

about  the  white  man  than  any  other  animal,  and 
when  you  consider  the  space  that  must  now  be 
traversed  to  insure  an  acquaintance  with  one  in 
his  wild  state,  the  elk  of  the  Pacific  Coast  is  prob- 
ably the  hardest  game  animal  to  secure  by  any 
means  of  hunting. 


CHAPTER    II 


THE   MULE-DEER 


The  range  of  the  mule-deer  on  the  western 
slope  of  our  country  is  far  more  varied  than  that 
of  any  other  deer.  Not  only  does  he  at  times  go 
well  into  the  range  of  the  blacktail,  and  at  all 
times  find  himself  at  home  in  the  heavy  timber 
or  dense  brush  apparently  essential  to  the  exist- 
ence of  the  blacktail,  but  he  is  equally  at  home 
on  great  open  tablelands  and  even  plains  where 
one  would  expect  to  find  only  the  antelope. 
The  sole  condition  is  enough  gullies,  piles  of 
rock,  patches  of  timber  or  brush,  hiding-places 
of  almost  any  kind,  or  ground  rough  enough  to 
enable  him  to  dodge  pursuit.  And  even  these 
do  not  have  to  be  so  very  plenty  or  very  close  to- 
gether. He  has  not  the  slightest  fear  of  desola- 
tion or  aridity,  and  on  the  worst  of  deserts,  where 
many  a  man  and  horse,  and  even  the  tough 
donkey,  have  lain  down  to  rise  no  more,  the 
mule-deer  may  be  found  happy  and  fat.  All  he 
needs  is  enough  rough  ground  and  cactus.     Mes- 

192 


The  Mule-deer  193 

quite  beans  may  in  places  help  round  out  his 
sleek  sides,  while  mescal  and  lechuga  may  relieve 
the  monotony  of  his  diet;  but  if  he  can  get 
enough  prickly  pear,  he  will  make  you  as  fine 
venison  as  you  ever  saw,  and  in  places  be  so 
abundant  as  to  make  fine  hunting  for  those  that 
can  endure  the  heat  and  dryness.  You  need  not 
trouble  yourself  in  the  slightest  with  the  question 
of  how  a  deer  can  live  where  there  is  no  water 
for  many  a  league.  All  he  wants  is  the  juicy 
lobe  of  the  prickly  pear.  This  he  eats,  spines  and 
all,  though  they  are  sharp  as  the  finest  needles 
and  strong  enough  to  go  through  an  ordinary 
boot-top,  if  you  kick  a  little  too  hard.  Strangely 
enough,  these  needles  do  not  seem  to  hurt  the 
mouth  or  tongue,  though  they  can  be  plainly  seen 
glistening  in  the  contents  of  the  deer's  stomach 
when  opened.  They  are  then  softened,  but  such 
cannot  be  the  case  when  they  are  swallowed. 
When  on  this  food  deer  not  only  can  go  without 
water,  but  often  go  without  it  when  it  is  perfectly 
convenient.  On  the  great  Mexican  desert  known 
as  the  Bolson  de  Mapimi,  I  hunted  for  several 
weeks  in  1884,  stopping  at  a  railroad  station 
twenty-five  miles  from  anywhere,  and  known  to  be 
twenty-five  miles  from  any  other  water.  Several 
hundred  feet  from  the  station  the  leakage  from 
the  water  cars  of  the  railroad  made  a  shal- 
low pond  some  fifty  feet  long  and  a  dozen  wide. 


194  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

To  the  leeward  of  this  fresh  tracks  of  deer  could 
be  found  almost  any  morning,  all  near  enough  to 
smell  the  water,  but  not  one  of  them  going  to  it. 
I  had  plenty  of  other  most  positive  proof  that  the 
deer  there,  as  well  as  the  antelope,  did  not  go  to 
water,  though  the  days  were  hot  enough  to  make 
a  man  want  water  as  much  as  in  midsummer. 
For  many  a  league  there  was  no  green  feed  ex- 
cept some  of  the  varieties  of  cactus,  and  every 
deer  and  antelope  that  I  opened  in  this  vicinity 
was  filled  with  it.  The  same  is  true  in  parts  of 
Sonora  and  in  much  of  Lower  California  (Mexico). 
In  the  latter  there  are  large  areas  abounding  in 
deer  as  fat  as  you  could  wish,  yet  where  you  will 
have  great  trouble  to  find  water  for  camp.  And 
where  you  do  find  water  such  ground  is  often  the 
finest  in  the  world  to  hunt  on  after  you  under- 
stand the  peculiarities  of  the  desert.  You  can 
learn  to  love  the  desert  as  well  as  the  timber. 

In  California  I  never  knew  deer  eat  cactus  but 
once.  That  was  in  a  year  of  severe  drouth,  and 
the  only  fat  deer  I  saw  that  year  was  a  buck  that 
was  full  of  our  thorniest  cactus.  Here  their  fa- 
vorite food  is  the  leaf  of  the  live-oak  or  live-oak 
brush,  which  is  almost  invariably  found  in  them. 
The  evergreen  leaves  of  the  wild  lilac,  wild  cherry 
and  buckthorn,  with  the  lucerne  and  wild  buck- 
wheat which  robe  much  of  the  hills,  the  moun- 
tain-mahogany, and  some  of  the  sumacs,  they  also 


The  Mule- deer  195 

eat.  I  have  never  known  them  eat  hay  as  the 
Virginia  deer  will  sometimes  do  when  very  hun- 
gry, and  they  rarely  touch  any  of  the  alfileria, 
burr-clover,  or  other  of  the  nutritious  fodder 
plants  of  which  cattle  are  here  so  fond.  But  they 
will  eat  alfalfa  and  nibble  growing  grain  —  prob- 
ably because  they  think  they  are  doing  mischief, 
this  deer  being  the  master  of  his  tribe  in  that 
line. 

When  I  first  came  to  California  in  1875,  I 
heard  much  talk  of  a  huge  burro  (donkey)  deer 
that  lived  on  the  desert  slope  of  the  main  chain 
of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  which  continues  all  the  way 
down  through  the  Mexican  territory  of  Lower 
California.  I  afterward  saw  several  and  was  in- 
clined to  believe  them  different  from  those  on  the 
western  slope.  Later  I  became  convinced  that 
it  was  a  case  of  bad  observation,  and  that  abnor- 
mally large  specimens  of  the  mule-deer  are  found 
through  its  entire  range.  Though  my  deer-hunt- 
ing reaches  over  thirty-five  years,  I  never  actually 
weighed  one  until  last  year,  1901,  when  we  hap- 
pened to  stop  where  there  were  scales,  with  a  big 
buck  just  killed.  Without  the  entrails  or  shanks 
it  weighed  one  hundred  and  sixty  pounds.  The 
fat  plainly  showed  it  had  fallen  off  a  little,  and  a 
month  earlier  was  probably  ten  pounds  heavier. 
He  probably  weighed  as  he  stood  full  two  hun- 
dred pounds  and  probably  weighed  two  hundred 


196  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

and  ten  the  first  of  July,  which  is  the  climax  of 
fatness  in  most  animals  in  California.  This  was 
a  fair,  average  big  buck  such  as  most  people 
would  guess  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  pounds 
dressed.  I  have  seen  several  that  would  weigh 
something  more,  but  for  one  such  there  are  a 
dozen  that  will  not  dress  one  hundred  and  twenty. 
The  largest  I  ever  shot  was  in  Durango,  Mexico, 
and  it  was  plainly  larger  and  fatter  than  this  one. 

Most  any  one  would  have  taken  it  for  a  differ- 
ent deer,  but  it  was  identical  with  the  common 
deer  of  southern  California. 

But  on  the  desert  side  of  the  mountains  in 
northern  California  is  found  what  is  called  the 
"  mule-tailed  deer,"  a  mule-deer  so  different  from 
the  common  one  that  it  is  probably  correct  to 
consider  it  another  variety.  This  deer  will  aver- 
age larger  than  the  mule-deer  of  the  south, 
though  it  is  doubtful  if  any  will  exceed  some  of 
the  specimens  found  at  times  along  the  whole 
lower  coast.  This  mule-tailed  deer  may  have 
occasionally  straggled  to  the  southern  deserts 
and  given  rise  to  the  idea  of  another  deer.  Or 
the  confusion  of  names  and  the  extra  large  bucks 
sometimes  found  among  the  common  mule-deer 
may  account  for  it.  I  have  never  known  the 
"  mule-tailed  "  deer  to  reach  the  coast  or  interior 
valleys  of  California,  and  the  only  one  known 
west   of   the    Sierra    Nevada   and   south   of   the 


BSftMAY  4  CJ..N.Y 


The  Mule- deer  197 

central  part  of  the  state  is  the  common  mule- 
deer. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  quite  certain  that  far 
down  in  Lower  California  is  a  very  small  specimen 
of  the  mule-deer  that  occasionally  reaches  into 
California.  Though  I  have  never  seen  it,  I  have 
seen  its  antlers,  and  know  of  three  being  killed 
a  hundred  miles  north  of  the  Mexican  line.  The 
largest,  a  four-year-old  buck  in  good  condition, 
weighed  only  fifty  pounds,  and  the  next  largest, 
a  barren  doe  and  fat,  weighed  but  forty.  This 
deer  hardly  ever  comes  out  of  the  very  heaviest 
brush.  It  is  quite  an  accident  to  see  one  at  all, 
and  little  is  known  of  its  habits.  It  is  so  small 
that  it  cannot  be  mistaken  for  the  common  deer, 
and  there  can  be  no  mistake  about  a  set  of  full 
antlers  such  as  I  have  seen  in  Lower  California. 
But  it  is  too  rare  to  hunt. 

Over  all  this  range  the  common  mule-deer  is 
found,  from  coast  to  mountain  top,  in  all  sorts  of 
cover  and  absence  of  cover,  so  long  as  there  is 
enough  rough  ground  for  which  he  can  steer 
if  trouble  arises.  Though  a  clumsy-looking  ani- 
mal compared  with  the  blacktail  or  the  Virginia 
deer,  the  mule-deer  is  still  full  of  grace  and 
beauty.  His  awkwardness  is  only  when  unsus- 
picious, at  which  time  deer  and  antelope  gener- 
ally lack  the  elegant  lines  they  have  when  looking 
for   danger.      The   ears,   eight   inches  long  and 


198  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

seven  wide,  that  a  moment  ago  looked  so  stupid 
when  they  were  thrown  back  and  the  animal  had 
its  head  down,  suddenly  round  out  to  a  graceful 
oval  the  minute  they  are  thrown  forward  in  quest 
of  danger,  and  seem  not  a  whit  too  large,  even  in 
the  fawn,  on  which  they  are  almost  as  large  as  on 
the  adult.  The  angularity  of  a  moment  ago  gives 
sudden  place  to  flowing  lines  that  are  pretty  even 
in  a  poor  deer  and  charming  on  a  fat  one. 

Still  more  surprising  is  the  change  when  the 
mule-deer  concludes  that  danger  is  imminent. 
Though  he  knows  right  well  how  to  canter,  and 
can  lay  himself  to  the  ground  in  dead  run  like  a 
horse  if  necessary,  he  seems  to  enjoy  leaping  high, 
as  if  to  tempt  your  fire,  and  for  this  he  prefers 
the  bouncing  gait.  All  four  hoofs  strike  the 
ground  with  one  far-sounding  thump  which  sends 
it  aloft  much  higher  than  the  common  leap  of 
the  Virginia  deer.  The  feet  are  gathered  closely 
up  as  it  rises,  held  so  till  on  the  descent,  when 
they  are  again  thrown  downward  like  steel  springs 
to  spurn  the  ground.  This  makes  a  gait  that  is 
exceedingly  pretty,  though  on  principle  much 
more  tiresome  than  the  lower  loping  pace  of 
other  deer.  The  animal  is  all  the  time  throwing 
itself  higher  than  is  needed,  thus  lengthening  the 
time  between  the  points  of  striking  ground  with- 
out increasing  the  distance  between  them.  The 
consequence  is  that,  because  it  will  not  let  itself 


The  Mule- deer  199 

out  to  a  dead  run  until  pretty  well  tired  with  the 
other  pace,  a  good  dog  can  overtake  a  mule-deer 
on  open  ground  much  more  quickly  than  the 
Virginia  deer. 

But  it  is  not  necessary  to  squander  sympathy  on 
this  account.  The  deer  rarely  strays  from  rough 
ground  more  than  enough  to  encourage  the  dog 
at  the  start.  The  minute  he  is  among  brush  and 
rocks  the  sympathy  is  all  needed  by  the  dog.  If 
there  is  anything  in  the  shape  of  brush  that  this 
deer  cannot  smash  or  twist  through  without  ap- 
parent delay  to  his  rapid  foot,  I  have  not  yet  seen 
it.  The  chaparral  of  southern  California  is  wholly 
unique,  that  of  the  northern  mountains  being  mere 
oak  openings  compared  with  most  of  it.  Manza- 
nita,  scrub-oak,  thorny  lilac,  adenostama,  cercocar- 
pus,  and  mountain-mahogany,  with  laurel,  choke- 
cherry  and  baccharis,  stiff  and  unyielding,  with 
fifty  times  the  number  of  twigs  and  branches 
needed  for  lusty  life,  all  are  trying  to  strangle 
each  other  with  a  myriad  arms,  beginning  the 
strife  often  at  a  point  where  a  man  would  have 
to  crawl  to  get  through  and  sometimes  rising 
fifteen  feet  in  the  struggle.  This  makes  a  vest 
of  evergreen  that  rolls  for  miles  over  hill  and  dale, 
with  shining  boulders  projecting  here  and  there, 
and  groves  of  live-oak  massed  in  the  heads  of 
little  gulches  or  engirdling  some  tiny  meadow. 
So  dense  is  the  mass  of  green  and  so  small  the 


200  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

shades  that  the  surface  looks  like  velvet,  here 
brightly  green  where  the  sun  strikes  it,  there 
darkly  blue  where  it  sleeps  in  shade,  but  generally 
a  mass  of  sparkling  light  from  the  great  number 
of  very  small  leaves.  But  the  boulders  that  glisten 
above  it  are  nothing  to  those  that  lie  below,  and 
in  its  natural  state  it  is  about  the  hardest  com- 
bination that  man  or  dog  is  ever  likely  called  to 
encounter. 

Such  is  the  chosen  home  of  this  deer,  although 
he  loves  the  heavy  timber  of  the  mountains  and 
the  dense  jungles  of  the  river  bottoms  quite  as 
well  as  any  other  deer.  The  only  possible  chance 
a  few  years  ago  was  to  catch  the  game  outside  of 
this,  and  even  then  it  took  a  deadly  rifle  to  make 
sure  of  covering.  For  if  the  deer  once  got  into 
that  heavy  brush,  a  few  yards  of  attempted  track- 
ing were  generally  enough  for  you,  and  if  the  day 
were  hot  a  few  feet  would  often  do.  But  there 
was  much  of  this  that  was  low  enough,  so  you 
could  see  the  head  or  even  the  back  of  a  deer, 
and  from  an  early  day  much  of  the  heavier  stuff 
was  burned  off,  with  openings  of  different  sizes 
here  and  there  on  which  one  could  see  almost 
the  whole  of  the  body. 

The  most  interesting  deer-hunting  on  this  coast 
used  to  be  on  the  more  open  portions  of  such 
ground  and  around  the  patches  of  chaparral,  while 
the  heavy  stuff  that  had  been  swept  by  fire,  when 


The  Mule- deer  io\ 

not  so  dry  as  to  consume  the  stubs  too  much,  was 
the  grandest  of  all  places  to  see  this  deer  perform. 
Other  deer  leaping  through  the  wildest  windfalls 
are  but  an  approach  to  the  skill  with  which  this 
mule-deer  defied  both  rifle  and  dog.  On  almost 
any  rough  ground  and  especially  up  hill,  common 
dogs  are  soon  willing  to  resign ;  but  it  is  in  burnt 
chaparral,  where  black  stubs  that  are  all  the  stiffer 
for  being  burnt  curl  upward  from  six  to  eight  feet 
and  almost  dense  enough  for  a  cornfield,  with 
enough  granite  boulders  among  the  rows  to  rep- 
resent giant  pumpkins,  that  this  deer  exhibits 
best.  Through  this  he  riots  with  his  loftiest 
jumps  and  most  erratic  twists.  The  sticks  he 
sweeps  so  gayly  aside  throw  back  the  largest  dog, 
many  deflect  the  best-aimed  bullet,  while  the  ever 
changing  curve  from  high  to  low  and  from  side 
to  side  leave  you  wondering  where  you  are  to  aim. 
Nothing  in  all  my  field  experience  was  ever  quite 
so  interesting  as  being  one  of  a  party  posted  on 
the  ridges  around  such  a  brushy  basin,  each  one  of 
us  emptying  the  whole  magazine  of  his  repeater  at 
a  two-hundred-pound  buck  in  wild  career  through 
the  middle  of  it,  and  half  a  dozen  "deer  dogs" 
led  by  a  great  Scotch  deerhound  of  tremendous 
speed  struggling  vainly  in  his  rear ;  yet  the  quarry, 
dashing  sunlight  from  his  glittering  antlers  at  the 
farther  edge,  skipped  gayly  up  a  gulch  of  rocky 
stairs  from  which  the  last  bullet  sung  on  high  a 


202  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

despairing  tenor  to  the  last  yelp  of  the  bruised 
and  breathless  pack. 

From  1875  to  1885  I  lived  where  deer  were  so 
plentiful  that  going  out  to  find  fresh  tracks  was 
like  going  to  the  corner  grocery.  In  the  greater 
part  of  the  section  there  were  no  hunters  but  my- 
self, and  deer  so  abundant  that  I  made  my  own 
game  laws,  with  no  one  to  protest.  Compelled  to 
spend  most  of  my  time  in  the  hills  to  regain  lost 
health,  I  had  little  to  do  but  study  nature ;  and 
many  a  deer  have  I  tracked  up  without  a  gun, 
and  many  a  one  have  I  let  go  unshot  at  simply 
because  I  did  not  want  it,  enjoying  the  hunt  just 
about  the  same.  In  this  way  I  knew  many  a  deer 
nearly  as  well  as  if  he  were  hanging  under  the 
tree  at  the  house,  for  I  rarely  troubled  those  near 
by,  but  kept  them  for  emergencies,  short  hunts, 
and  hunts  without  a  gun.  Educated  on  the  wary 
Virginia  deer,  I  at  first  felt  nothing  but  contempt 
for  a  deer  that  one  can  get  a  shot  at  with  boots 
on  and  stiff  overalls  scratching  the  dry  brush. 
But  time  soon  gave  me  a  high  respect  for  the 
mule-deer;  and  it  has  been  constantly  growing 
as  the  animal  keeps  pace  with  modern  guns  and 
ammunition. 

Every  one  who  has  hunted  deer  much  some- 
times wonders  if  the  animal  has  not  a  sixth  sense. 
So  often  when  you  have  the  wind  just  right,  are 
certain  you  are  making  no  noise,  while  still  more 


The  Mule- deer  203 

certain  you  are  out  of  sight  behind  some  ridge, 
and  just  when  you  are  sure  you  have  the  game 
in  your  hand,  you  find  the  tracks  of  its  speedy 
disappearance.  No  matter  how  softly  you  have 
lowered  your  moccasined  foot  through  the  snow, 
or  how  carefully  you  have  eased  off  every  twig 
along  your  course  that  could  scrape  on  the  softest 
cloth,  or  how  carefully  you  have  kept  the  wind  in 
your  face,  out  of  sight  and  even  off  the  trail  most 
of  the  time  to  avoid  the  danger  of  the  deer's 
watching  that  track,  —  you  find  it  suddenly  gone ; 
jumped,  too,  so  far  away  that  you  could  not  even 
hear  its  bounding  feet  on  the  frozen  ground  or 
catch  the  slightest  glimpse  of  its  rapid  flight. 
Such  disappointments  make  one  love  deer-hunt- 
ing more  than  any  other  kind,  and  the  mule-deer 
of  this  coast  has  a  goodly  store  of  them  in  hand 
for  any  one  who  will  follow  him  long  enough. 
One  who  has  been  out  only  a  few  times  may 
stumble  over  a  blockhead,  of  which  the  propor- 
tion is  much  greater  than  among  Virginia  deer. 
But  one  who  hunts  on  the  same  ground  long 
enough  to  know  almost  every  individual  deer,  and 
notes  to-day  the  tracks  of  yesterday  and  the  day 
before,  as  well  as  those  of  the  last  hour,  will  be 
much  surprised  to  learn  how  many  deer  have 
slipped  away  from  him  without  his  suspect- 
ing it. 

In  addition  to  this  mysterious  sense,  their  ears 


ao4  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

are  as  keen  as  those  of  any  deer,  and  their  knowl- 
edge of  the  scent  of  a  man  I  have  found  fully 
developed  in  fawns  on  ground  that  I  knew  posi- 
tively had  not  known  the  step  of  man  since  their 
birth.  Though  their  eyes  are  dull  for  an  object 
at  rest,  they  have  that  same  wonderful  quickness 
to  detect  motion  which  makes  the  hunting  of 
other  deer  so  difficult.  I  have  seen  one  watch 
the  motion  of  my  companion  on  a  ridge  so  far  off 
that  the  sharpest  eyes  of  man  could  hardly  say 
with  certainty  what  it  was.  And  I  have  seen 
scores  of  them  jump  and  run  from  their  beds  at 
the  sight  of  my  head  rising  slowly  over  a  ridge 
two  hundred  yards  away,  while  the  flash  of  a  rifle 
on  the  shoulder  will  send  many  a  one  flying  at 
twice  that  distance. 

This  deer  is  apt  at  first  to  excite  only  your 
contempt  by  his  stupidity  in  lying  still  until  you 
are  very  near  him  and  then  showing  himself. 
But  you  will  soon  find  this  the  exception,  and  for 
every  one  you  get  in  that  way,  several  dozen 
escape  you  by  close  hiding.  For  in  that  respect 
this  deer  is  a  master.  From  a  distance  I  once 
saw  one  enter  a  bit  of  isolated  brush  of  not  over 
an  acre  and  a  quarter  in  extent.  I  did  not  want 
it,  but  did  want  to  see  it  run.  First  I  stood  on 
a  slope  some  feet  above  and  threw  rocks  in,  but 
nothing  moved.  Then  I  went  into  the  brush 
with  the  same  result,  going  all  through  it,  making 


The  Mule- deer  205 

much  noise,  and  kicking  here  and  there.  Then 
I  circled  it,  but  there  was  no  track  going  out, 
while  the  one  going  in  was  plain  enough ;  and 
I  had  been  all  the  time  in  such  plain  sight  that 
the  game  could  not  have  gone  out  without  my 
seeing.  Then  I  tried  tracking  the  deer  around 
in  the  brush.  The  tracks  multiplied  all  the  time, 
showing  plainly  that  the  beast  was  sneaking 
around  in  the  cover.  After  spending  about  an 
hour  in  the  cover  and  an  hour  on  the  hillside 
above,  waiting  for  the  deer  to  move,  I  gave  up. 
If  this  is  not  shrewdness,  what  is  ?  The  amount 
or  quality  of  the  noise  you  make  does  not  change 
the  case  in  the  slightest.  You  may  sometimes 
start  one  by  getting  to  the  windward,  but  gener- 
ally not,  for  when  the  deer  is  playing  this  game 
it  knows  perfectly  well  that  you  are  a  man,  and  a 
man  that  will  finally  get  tired.  Often,  instead  of 
sneaking,  they  will  lie  still  until  you  almost  tread 
on  them  and  then  dash  into  a  little  gulch  or 
around  some  rock  or  through  a  bunch  of  dense 
brush  that  gives  you  not  a  second  of  time  to 
shoot,  and  then  they  are  gone  forever.  Several 
times  I  have  been  close  enough  to  breathe  the 
dust  raised  from  the  dry  ground  by  their  plung- 
ing feet.  A  friend  riding  along  a  hillside  trail  in 
dense  brush  one  day,  just  ahead  of  me,  saw  one 
lying  under  a  manzanita  with  head  down  and 
eyes  up  watching  him.     As  his  rifle  was  lying 


106  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

across  the  saddle  in  his  lap  he  just  tipped  it  over 
and  fired.  His  horse  sprung  from  under  him  so 
quickly  that  my  horse  almost  trod  on  him  as  he 
rolled  over  the  ground,  but  he  bagged  the  game, 
and  its  coat  was  blackened  with  the  powder.  They 
also  drop  their  heads  and  so  crouch  in  low  brush, 
that  a  very  large  buck  can  almost  sneak  out  of 
sight  in  a  good  potato  patch.  When  you  have 
been  taken  in  a  few  times  in  this  way,  your  respect 
for  the  animal  increases  rapidly. 

And  it  increases  still  more  when  this  deer  starts 
in  full  career,  for  there  is  no  more  magnificent 
target  for  the  rifle  than  when  he  concludes  that 
hiding  may  be  a  failure  and  that  flight  is  safer. 
Where  the  chaparral  is  high  he  may  run  through 
without  bounding  above  it.  But  where  it  is  about 
six  feet,  or  even  seven,  he  seems  to  take  special 
pleasure  in  drawing  your  fire  by  swinging  full 
above  it  where  entirely  unnecessary.  This  makes 
the  deer's  course  a  line  of  glistening  curves  on 
which  it  is  very  difficult  to  make  calculation, 
especially  when  he  works  into  the  combination 
a  new  twist  to  one  side  or  the  other  at  almost 
every  spring,  beside  varying  the  height  of  every 
leap.  As  a  rule  your  sole  reliance  in  such  case 
is  speed  of  fire.  On  open  ground  you  can  make 
calculations  on  the  up-and-down  motion  as  well 
as  on  the  forward  —  that  is,  sometimes  —  and  fire 
every  shot  as  you  should,  as  if  it  were  your  last. 


The  Mule- deer  207 

But  in  heavy  brush  every  leap  is  liable  to  be  the 
last,  for  at  any  moment  the  game  drops  out  of 
sight  and  sneaks  away,  or  goes  off  on  a  low  trot 
with  head  down,  or  even  breaks  into  a  low  run, 
in  all  of  which  he  is  as  perfect  .as  in  his  lofty 
bounding.  Keeping  a  string  of  empty  shells 
hot  from  the  ejector  of  the  repeater  revolving 
in  whizzing  curves  above  your  head  is  ruinous 
to  good  shooting,  but  in  many  cases  it  is  the  only 
chance.  And  when  the  firing  pin  clicks  dead  on 
the  empty  barrel  and  the  brush  closes  forever  on 
the  last  curve  of  shining  fur,  I  never  feel  badly, 
for  if  there  is  anything  I  love  it  is  game  that 
knows  how  to  escape.  Such  work  should  be 
prepared  for  by  much  fine  target  practice  off- 
hand, as  this  snap  shooting  tends  to  destroy 
that  extreme  fineness  of  sight  and  touch  on  the 
trigger,  on  which  in  the  long  run  success  with  the 
rifle  most  depends. 

This  deer  is  probably  the  most  mischievous  of 
his  race.  Most  all  deer  eat  turnips,  beans,  and  a 
few  other  things,  and  occasionally  nip  grain.  But 
the  mule-deer  will  spoil  from  thirty  to  fifty  of  the 
largest  bunches  of  grapes  in  a  night,  and  later  in 
the  season  will  finish  off  the  leaves  and  shoots, 
besides  cleaning  up  the  new  wood  on  deciduous 
fruit  trees.  Apples,  Japanese  persimmons,  pears, 
quinces,  almost  anything  in  reach,  he  spoils  with 
a  single  bite  and  passes  on  to  another,  as  he  does 


2o8  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

with  a  bunch  of  grapes.  Bean  vines,  melons, 
squashes,  and  many  other  things  he  harvests  often 
more  completely  than  the  settler  would  if  he  had 
a  chance. 

Few  things  in  California  have  been  more  amus- 
ing than  the  efforts  of  many  a  settler  near  the 
base  of  the  hills  to  reimburse  his  loss  by  killing 
one  of  these  mischievous  deer  for  the  table.  After 
deciding  to  have  some  venison  of  his  own  fatten- 
ing, and  buying  a  new  rifle  with  plenty  of  shine 
on  it,  he  discovers  that  the  deer  which  people  tell 
him  are  on  foot  morning  and  evening  in  the  hills, 
don't  exist  around  his  place.  This  is  true  mainly 
when  they  are  living  on  the  native  feed  of  the 
hills.  When  they  are  raiding  fine  raisin  grapes, 
they  wait  until  night  has  drawn  her  heaviest  cur- 
tains over  the  eyes  of  the  tenderfoot.  By  the 
time  it  is  light  enough  to  read  on  the  bare  ground 
the  record  of  their  banquet,  they  are  far  up  the 
hillside  again.  Being  well  dined,  they  have  no 
use  for  any  of  the  native  feed  they  got  along  with 
while  the  grapes  were  growing.  They  have  noth- 
ing farther  to  do  but  lie  down  in  the  heaviest 
brush,  and  smile  at  the  sound  of  heavy  boots 
scraping  and  stumbling  up  the  hill.  If  the 
breath  of  the  owner  of  the  boots  holds  out  for 
the  thousand  feet  or  more  of  ascent  generally 
necessary,  they  smile  still  more  as  he  puffs  and 
pants  around  in  the  chaparral,  which  he  reaches 


The  Mule- deer  209 

about  the  time  the  sun  blazes  high  through  the 
clear,  dry  air  of  autumn  and  before  a  particle  of 
the  daily  sea  breeze  has  risen.  And  little  more 
does  he  see  if  he  goes  there  in  the  evening  to 
await  the  deer's  rising  and  coming  out  on  the 
open  ground.  Raisin  grapes  are  very  substantial, 
being  both  food  and  drink,  and  after  a  night's 
banquet  on  them,  early  rising  for  the  deer  the 
next  evening  would  be  quite  absurd. 

After  returning  from  the  hills  a  few  times,  hot, 
hungry,  and  disgusted,  without  seeing  a  hair  or 
hearing  the  sound  of  a  hoof,  he  concludes  to 
watch  for  them  in  the  vineyard.  The  seven-foot 
fence  he  has  built  around  it  they  leap  like  birds, 
or  if  there  is  an  opening  in  it  large  enough  to  let 
a  decent  dog  through,  the  largest  buck  will  go 
through  it  or  under  it,  antlers  and  all,  especially  if 
it  is  of  barbed  wire.  This  is  their  especial  delight, 
and  a  deer  will  go  several  yards  to  find  a  good 
place  it  can  use  as  a  backscratcher  rather  than 
lose  its  advantage  by  jumping  it.  As  nearly  every 
kind  of  trap,  noose,  or  pitfall  fails  to  stop  the 
marauder,  the  owner  thinks  he  has  a  certainty  in 
the  enclosure. 

But  even  on  open  ground  game  is  very  hard  to 
see  at  night  and  still  harder  to  shoot,  especially 
by  one  not  used  to  it,  and  deer  see  almost  as  well 
as  by  day  and  can  smell  and  hear  even  better. 
While   some  will  not  enter  the  vineyard  at  all, 


2 to  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

others  care  nothing  for  the  presence  of  man,  and 
come  so  near  that  he  can  hear  them  eating. 
Still,  he  cannot  see  them,  for  the  grapevines  are 
much  higher  and  the  deer  much  lower  than  they 
seem  when  seen  apart.  Even  by  moonlight,  when 
often  most  sure  of  success,  the  hunter  is  often 
deceived  the  worst.  Although  I  have  seen  many 
a  man  try  this  watching,  I  never  knew  but  one  to 
succeed.  He  did  it  by  digging  a  pit  in  the 
ground  where  it  commanded  a  view  of  a  knoll 
against  the  sky.  During  the  season  he  managed 
in  this  way  to  get  six  deer,  and  in  the  operation 
his  vineyard  of  ten  acres  was  mostly  destroyed. 
Many  would  imagine  that  the  concentration  of 
deer  at  such  a  place  would  make  the  surrounding 
hills  fine  for  hunting ;  but  unless  you  are  on  the 
hilltop,  a  mile  or  more  away,  by  daylight  your 
chances  will  be  slight,  and  you  will  discover  that 
there  are  several  other  directions  they  can  take 
as  well  as  the  one  you  have  chosen  for  them. 
Another  way  is  to  track  them  out,  find  where 
they  went,  and  go  at  evening  to  wait  for  them  to 
rise ;  but  this  is  slow  also,  as  the  settler  found, 
for  when  thus  feeding  the  deer  seems  perfectly 
aware  that  he  is  doing  mischief,  and  appears  to 
know  that  somebody  seeks  recompense. 

An  apparent  confirmation  of  this  is  the  entirely 
different  action  of  the  same  deer  when  they  quit 
feeding  on   the   cultivated   place   and   resort   to 


The  Mule- deer  i\\ 

nature's  orchard.  When  acorns  are  falling,  deer 
go  to  the  groves  of  live-oaks  in  the  little  valleys 
and  canyons  along  the  base  of  the  hills,  where  the 
feed  is  concentrated,  instead  of  spending  time 
with  the  scattered  trees  along  the  hills.  But  the 
very  same  deer  that  would  not  go  near  the  vine- 
yard until  after  night,  and  went  out  before  day- 
light to  lie  down  at  once  in  the  heaviest  cover, 
now  stray  from  the  hills  into  these  groves  as  early 
as  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  and  sometimes  an 
hour  earlier.  And  in  the  morning  they  lounge 
about  as  late  even  as  ten  o'clock,  and  nearly 
always  as  late  as  nine,  nibbling  acorns  and  stand- 
ing around  in  the  sunny  spots  before  moving  off 
to  the  hills.  Those  deer  that  went  into  the  hills 
earlier  went  slowly,  did  not  go  very  far,  and 
lingered  long  on  foot  before  lying  down  for  the 
day. 

The  hunting  in  some  of  these  groves  used  to 
be  the  easiest  on  earth.  Many  were  like  old  Eng- 
lish parks,  filled  with  oaks  that  were  old  settlers 
before  the  falling  of  the  acorn  that  made  the  keel 
of  the  Mayflower.  In  many  places  they  covered 
the  ground  with  almost  solid  shade,  with  the 
ground  nearly  always  rolling  enough  to  enable 
one  to  keep  out  of  sight,  generally  with  a  gully  or 
ravine  winding  through  it  just  deep  enough  to 
permit  one  to  travel  with  ease  on  some  old  cattle 
trail,  and  just  low  enough  to  hide,  yet  allow  you 


212  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

to  see  over  each  bank.  As  the  breeze  from  sea 
by  day  or  land  at  night  can  nearly  always  be  pre- 
dicted to  a  certainty,  and  follows  the  run  of  the 
water,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  lounge  through 
one  of  these  parks,  to  most  of  which  you  could 
easily  drive,  even  in  the  earliest  days.  For  years 
I  did  most  all  my  reading  and  writing  under  a 
natural  arbor  of  wild  grape  in  one  of  these,  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  house,  with  others 
equally  wild  within  a  short  ride.  Nothing  was 
plainer  than  that  the  deer  well  knew  the  difference 
between  them  and  the  vineyard  or  garden.  They 
showed  no  more  watchfulness  than  when  in  the 
hills,  and  often  seemed  actually  more  careless,  as 
in  some  places  they  would  spend  the  day  there 
lying  under  the  trees  just  like  cattle. 

Persecution  and  the  rapid  settlement  of  the 
country  have  not  only  reduced  the  numbers  of 
the  mule-deer  very  greatly,  but  decidedly  changed 
his  habits.  He  no  longer  spends  the  day  in  the 
sumac  of  the  lower  hills,  or  lies  beneath  the  sweep- 
ing sycamore  in  the  edge  of  the  valley.  No  more 
will  you  find  the  big  buck  under  the  heteromeles 
on  the  hillside  that  looks  out  upon  the  distant 
sea,  or  under  the  grapevine  in  the  river  bottom, 
or  even  in  the  dense  chaparral,  unless  it  is  well  up 
the  mountain's  breast  and  in  its  roughest  brakes. 
Less  often  do  they  come  to  the  vineyard  or  orchard 
even  in  the  darkest  night,  or  if  they  do  it  is  to  go 


The  Mule- deer  213 

still  higher  up  and  farther  back  into  the  hills  than 
ever  before.  The  day  when  one  could  wander 
about  at  random  among  our  hills  is  past.  For 
any  approach  to  certainty  one  must  now  locate 
the  general  whereabouts  of  the  game  by  its  tracks 
—  no  easy  matter  when  we  are  limited  to  bucks, 
a  law  we  now  respect  because  of  its  rigorous 
necessity.  By  the  time  this  is  done  it  is  apt  to 
be  too  late  to  find  his  especial  whereabouts  of  that 
day.  The  only  way  is  to  be  there  at  or  near  day- 
light the  next  morning,  on  the  highest  ridges  that 
will  give  you  a  view  of  the  situation.  Or  you 
may  stay  and  wait  until  evening  brings  them  again 
to  their  feet.  But  there  is  some  danger  they  will 
have  discovered  you,  and  you  will  be  quite  certain 
not  to  see  one.  Being  there  in  the  morning  early 
enough  often  means  camping  very  near,  and  some- 
times on  the  high  ridges  without  water,  so  that 
the  pursuit  of  the  mule-deer  is  no  longer  the  joy 
of  the  tenderfoot  who  wants  to  kill  a  deer.  An 
old  fool  deer  yet  remains  here  and  there  that  the 
tenderfoot  may  stumble  over,  but  the  "  picnic " 
part  of  the  hunting  is  gone  forever.  But  he  who 
loves  hunting  for  its  own  sake  and  not  for  count 
or  heads  enjoys  the  chase  as  much  as  ever.  The 
mule-deer  will  outlast  all  his  enemies,  for  there  is 
too  much  wild  country  that  can  never  be  cleared. 
Yet  much  of  the  future  hunting  will  be  in  pre- 
serves, and  most  of  it  mere  murder ;  for  the  mule- 


214  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

deer  when  not  troubled  becomes  disgustingly 
tame,  just  as  he  becomes  dangerously  familiar  as 
a  pet.  He  is  the  worst  of  his  race  in  this  respect, 
and  the  baby  fawn  that  seems  so  innocent  will 
butt  you  over  or  strike  you  with  its  feet  before  it 
is  half  grown. 

I  have  not  yet  been  able  to  discover  that  perse- 
cution makes  this  deer  watch  its  back  track  before 
being  started.  Even  after  being  started  it  is  not 
so  particular  as  the  Virginia  in  this  respect,  and 
it  is  much  more  easy  to  see  again  and  even  to 
get  a  good  shot  at,  though  as  a  rule  it  does  not 
pay  to  try.  He  will  often  stop  on  the  upward 
slope  of  the  next  hill  after  running  over  a  ridge, 
and  often,  if  he  is  running  then,  a  ball  that  ploughs 
the  dry  dirt  ahead  of  him  will  turn  or  daze  him 
long  enough  to  give  you  a  shot  or  two.  So  that 
if  you  are  near  the  crest  of  a  ridge  when  one  runs 
over,  it  will  generally  pay  to  run  to  the  top  of  it. 

In  rainy  weather  the  movements  of  this  deer 
are  irregular  after  he  once  begins  to  travel.  Dur- 
ing a  storm  he  generally  moves  little,  keeping  in 
heavy  brush  about  the  heads  of  deep  gulches  or 
sheltering  rocks.  But  after  the  rain  is  over  he 
will  go  almost  anywhere  and  travel  farther  than 
before,  so  that  tracking  by  your  knowledge  of 
his  habits  is  much  more  difficult  than  when  the 
ground  is  dry.  In  the  dry  summer  of  southern 
California  his  habits  are  very  regular  when  not 


The  Mule- deer  215 

too  much  disturbed.  If  you  find  a  fresh  track 
in  the  morning  leading  up  hill  from  a  spring  you 
may  be  quite  certain  he  is  not  going  down  hill 
again  that  morning,  at  least  not  very  far,  and  may 
be  quite  confident  of  finding  his  track  along  the 
upper  slope.  If  not,  then  it  is  pretty  good  evi- 
dence that  he  has  lain  down  somewhere  on  the 
face  of  the  hill.  The  same  when  he  has  left 
feeding-ground  at  the  base  of  the  hill.  If  the 
hill  is  not  too  small,  he  is  not  likely  to  go 
down  the  other  side  for  the  sake  of  going  up 
another  hill.  So,  if  not  bothered  too  much,  most 
of  his  days  will  be  passed  in  an  orbit  of  little 
over  three  miles  in  diameter,  and  often  much 
less.  This  is  generally  around  some  common 
centre,  like  a  good  spring  or  feeding-ground,  or 
extra  good  hiding-place  into  which  to  run.  On 
this  area  the  deer  will  often  not  move  over  a  mile 
in  a  day,  swinging  from  one  side  to  the  other, 
spending  two  or  three  days  here  and  two  or  three 
there.  You  need  not  look  for  them  to-day  where 
you  started  them  yesterday,  but  in  a  few  days 
they  will  be  there  again  or  somewhere  very  near. 
For  on  the  greater  part  of  the  range  there  is  no 
migration  of  this  deer  to  speak  of.  It  will  move 
off  the  higher  mountains  down  the  sides  when  the 
snow  is  deep,  but  that  is  not  far.  And  once  in  a 
while  deer  move  into  some  locality  from  a  dis- 
tance, and  also  become  scarce  for  a  time.     But 


216  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

such  things  are  at  long  intervals  and  irregular. 
So  acorns  and  a  vineyard  or  orchard  may  con- 
centrate them,  but  they  have  not  come  far,  and  as 
a  rule  their  movements  are  influenced  little  by 
the  question  of  food  or  weather. 

In  the  high  mountains  the  period  of  seclusion 
seems  to  last  longer  than  along  the  coast.  As 
late  as  the  middle  of  July,  at  four  thousand  feet, 
I  have  hunted  for  ten  days  where  I  could  find 
plenty  of  fresh  tracks  at  daylight  around  the 
edges  of  small  patches  of  brush  of  only  a  few 
acres  each,  where  I  could  easily  circle  and  find 
positive  proof  that  they  had  not  gone  out,  yet  I 
could  be  there  at  the  first  glimmer  of  dawn,  and 
again  at  the  last  hour  or  so  of  daylight,  on  a  com- 
manding position,  with  a  good  glass,  yet  see  never 
a  sign  of  fur  or  horns.  This  is  often  bad  enough 
along  the  lower  levels,  but  does  not  last  as  long 
as  in  the  mountains.  The  length  of  the  breeding 
season  probably  has  something  to  do  with  it,  for 
spotted  fawns  may  be  seen  in  the  mountains  as 
late  as  July,  while  at  the  coast  the  spots  are  off 
early  in  June. 

Driving  with  hounds  to  runways  is  even  less  of 
a  success  with  the  mule-deer  here  than  with  the 
blacktail  in  the  North.  While  he  likes  an  easy 
road  when  undisturbed  as  well  as  any,  he  cares 
not  where  he  goes  when  alarmed:  plunges  into 
the  thickest  masses  of  rock  or  brush,  or  both ;  up 


The  Mule- deer  217 

hill  or  down  is  all  the  same  to  him,  here  clatter- 
ing down  the  rocky  bottom  of  a  steep  wash,  there 
skipping  gayly  from  side  to  side  of  a  steep  gully 
up  which  the  dog  can  hardly  scramble,  thrown 
back  by  the  brush  in  the  bottom  and  on  the  sides. 
You  may  run  the  same  deer  off  the  same  hill  a 
dozen  times,  and  he  will  take  a  different  course 
every  time.  It  is,  therefore,  too  difficult  to  estab- 
lish runways  even  by  trial.  The  dryness  of  the 
air  and  the  heat  which  impair  the  scent  of  a  dog 
after  a  short  run  are  also  greater  than  in  the 
North,  while  water  to  refresh  the  dogs  is  much 
more  scarce.  A  two-mile  run,  which  sets  the 
average  dog  thinking,  is  nothing  for  the  deer 
even  with  the  lofty  leaps  that  are  so  tiresome. 
At  three  miles  the  yelp  of  the  dog  becomes  a 
wail  of  despair,  and  the  longest  run  I  ever  knew 
was  but  four  miles  when  the  dog  gave  up.  This 
buck  slipped  away  in  fine  style,  though  very  fat, 
but  a  few  weeks  afterward  I  found  him  miserably 
emaciated,  probably  from  the  run  in  the  heat. 
Had  the  dog  been  as  fat  as  the  deer,  he  would 
not  have  lasted  half  a  mile. 

Still  there  are  places  where  dogs  may  be  used 
to  advantage,  such  as  a  hill  that  is  a  mere  spur 
of  a  larger  hill  from  which  it  is  separated  by  "  a 
saddle."  It  may  have  a  top  like  a  table  covered 
with  several  acres  of  brush  with  open  flanks.  If 
this  stood  off  alone  it  would  be  too  small  to  have 


2 1 8  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

any  game  on  it.  But  being  part  of  a  larger  range, 
it  may  have  several  deer  on  its  top,  if  they  are  not 
hunted  too  much.  A  dog  need  not  stand  high  in 
the  "  Kennel  Register  "  to  hustle  the  deer  about 
so  that  they  will  run  around  on  the  open  flanks  or 
start  to  cross  the  saddle  for  the  larger  hill.  The 
same  is  true  where  brush  is  in  scattered  patches 
with  good  openings  between,  or  the  game  is  in 
brushy  ravines  with  good  ridges  to  stand  on,  and 
similar  combinations.  And  you  need  have  no 
compunctions  against  using  hounds  under  such 
circumstances,  for  the  game  will  likely  give  you 
and  the  dogs  the  most  interesting  experience  you 
ever  had. 

This  deer  is  plainly  a  tougher  animal  than  the 
Virginia  deer,  and  will  readily  carry  several  bullets 
away  into  brush  where  you  will  never  find  him 
without  a  good  dog.  I  found  an  ounce  round 
ball  with  seven  drams  of  the  very  strongest 
powder  none  too  effective  for  hunting  around 
the  patches  of  heavy  brush,  in  spite  of  the  talk 
about  "  spoiling  all  the  meat,"  "  ruining  the  hide," 
etc.  Letting  a  wounded  one  alone  so  as  to  get 
stiff  and  sick,  which  is  so  often  a  success  with 
the  Virginia  deer,  especially  in  very  cold  weather, 
is  generally  a  failure  on  this  deer.  I  have  known 
one  go  seven  miles  without  stopping  when  shot  a 
little  too  far  back  with  a  Winchester  .50-caliber 
express,  and  be   extremely  lively  the  next  day. 


The  Male- deer  219 

The  surest  way  with  a  wounded  one  is  to  chase 
it  up  as  fast  as  possible  before  it  finds  its  pace 
after  recovering  from  the  first  shock.  For  if  he 
once  gets  into  heavy  brush,  you  are  quite  likely 
to  be  the  permanent  proprietor  of  the  shock,  espe- 
cially on  a  hot  day. 

The  early  summer  coat  of  the  mule-deer  is 
yellowish  tan  color,  which  in  July  falls  rapidly 
off,  leaving  a  fine  glossy  black  which  soon  takes 
a  gray  tinge  as  the  hairs  increase  in  length.  The 
coat  becomes  rapidly  gray,  and  so  continues 
through  the  winter  until  late  in  the  spring. 
Black  still  persists  along  the  brisket  and  on  the 
forehead,  but  most  of  the  coat  is  a  glossy,  iron 
gray  that  shines  afar  in  the  sun,  and  is  so  often 
the  only  thing  by  which  you  can  detect  the 
animal  at  a  distance,  that  shining  spots  on  the 
landscape  and  especially  in  brush  must  always  be 
examined,  no  matter  what  their  shape.  With  the 
warm  weather  of  late  spring  the  gray  falls  rapidly 
away  into  the  yellow,  which  seldom  lasts  over 
three  months,  while  the  black  period  is  sometimes 
not  more  than  three  weeks,  or  even  less. 

The  antlers  are,  if  possible,  more  irregular  than 
those  of  the  blacktail,  and  afford  no  indication  of 
the  deer's  age  that  is  of  value.  When  in  the  vel- 
vet they  seem  darker  than  the  velvet  of  the  Vir- 
ginia deer,  and  when  out  of  the  velvet  they  at 
first  seem  more  brown.     Most  of  them  are  forked 


iio  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

horns  with  few  or  no  points,  so  that  a  fine  pair 
need  not  be  expected.  They  are  of  all  shapes, 
sizes,  and  degrees  of  branching,  so  that  no  one 
can  say  just  what  the  average  is.  They  start 
from  the  bony  crest  of  the  forehead,  instead  of  the 
skin  on  the  back  of  the  neck,  as  seen  in  some 
celebrated  pictures.  And,  instead  of  lying  along 
the  back,  as  some  artists  have  them,  they  point 
forward,  so  that  a  dog  that  is  not  pretty  quick  will 
be  impaled  in  a  twinkling  without  much  lowering 
of  the  deer's  nose.  The  antlers  are  carried  late 
into  winter,  and  often  are  not  shed  before  the 
latter  part  of  February.  The  new  growth  begins 
at  once,  so  that  by  the  middle  of  July  the  velvet 
is  generally  off  and  the  antlers  trim  and  clean. 
The  mooted  question  of  what  becomes  of  deer's 
horns  that  are  shed  is  not  so  difficult  to  answer 
here.  I  have  found  them  in  all  stages  of  disin- 
tegration from  "  weathering  "  —  the  same  as  the 
rocks.  Strangely  enough  this  takes  place,  as 
with  the  rocks,  even  faster  where  there  is  little 
or  no  rain  than  where  there  is  plenty.  On  the 
desert,  horn  is  like  a  plough-handle  or  a  wagon- 
tongue,  only  more  so.  Without  use  and  without 
rain  they  "  weather  "  away. 

In  size  and  proportions  this  deer  varies  even 
more  than  the  Virginia.  A  good-sized  buck 
will  measure  six  feet  from  tip  of  nose  to  root  of 
tail    without   special    stretching   out.       That    is 


The  Mule- deer  221 

about  as  he  would  stand  with  nose  a  little  out- 
stretched in  feeding.  But  as  deer  are  never  as 
high  as  they  seem  in  pictures,  he  will  be  but 
twenty  inches  high  at  the  brisket.  The  length 
of  the  shank  of  hind  leg  is  the  same,  with  a 
girth  at  the  shoulder  of  three  feet  ten  inches  for 
a  fat  one.  This  makes  a  very  handsome  animal, 
though  its  height  at  the  top  of  the  shoulder  will 
not  be  over  forty  inches.  Its  great  elasticity  and 
quickness  when  in  motion  make  it  look  larger 
and  far  more  imposing  than  when  undergoing 
measurement  after  death. 

The  tail  varies  greatly  with  the  individual  as 
well  as  with  the  age.  It  is  from  six  to  eight 
inches  long,  often  so  short  on  the  largest  deer  as 
to  appear  stubby.  On  the  greater  part  of  the 
under  side  a  narrow  strip  is  naked,  while  the  rest 
is  a  warm  white.  In  diameter  it  generally  nar- 
rows from  the  base  to  within  a  third  or  a  fourth 
of  the  end,  where  it  suddenly  widens  out  into  a 
tuft  of  longer  hairs,  mainly  black.  A  strip  of 
brownish  gray,  or  brown,  runs  down  the  top  to 
near  the  end,  but  most  of  the  tuft  is  quite  black, 
while  most  of  the  rest  is  quite  white.  Being  set 
against  a  large  white  patch  on  the  rump,  some 
ten  inches  wide,  this  black  is  so  conspicuous  that 
it  is  not  strange  it  has  received  among  most  hunt- 
ers the  name  of  "blacktail,"  which  properly  be- 
longs to  the  Columbia  deer  of  the  North.     This 


ill  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

tail  is  hardly  seen  in  running,  as  it  is  generally 
carried  down.  And  even  when  carried  half  up, 
or  even  horizontal  as  it  sometimes  is,  it  is  hardly 
noticed  like  the  tail  of  the  Virginia  deer,  which 
so  strikes  the  eye  at  the  first  jump. 

The  tail  of  the  "  mule-tailed  "  deer  is  from  one- 
third  to  one-half  longer,  of  about  equal  diameter 
throughout,  with  no  very  distinct  tuft,  but  rather 
a  bunch  of  black  hairs  in  the  end.  All  the  rest 
is  a  warm  white,  sometimes  with  a  tawny  tinge, 
hairs  all  longer  than  in  the  tail  of  the  other  ex- 
cept at  the  end,  where  they  are  not  long  enough 
to  form  any  distinct  tuft.  The  white  runs  to  the 
under  side,  where  there  is  little  or  no  sign  of  a 
naked  stripe.  Some  of  the  color  of  the  back 
reaches  an  inch  or  two  down  on  the  upper  side 
of  the  tail.  This  deer  has  also  a  broader  section 
of  white  under  the  throat,  but  it  has  the  same 
black  forehead,  the  same  general  expression,  ears, 
and  shape  as  the  other,  with  the  same  light  cin- 
namon on  the  legs,  black  brisket,  white  rump. 
Sportsmen  differ  about  its  classification  as  a  sepa- 
rate variety;  but  there  is  no  deer  in  southern 
California  having  that  kind  of  a  tail  or  so  much 
white  on  the  throat.  It  is  generally  supposed 
a  larger  deer,  and  it  is  quite  probable  that  there 
are  fewer  small  specimens  among  it  than  among 
the  deer  of  the  South.  But  there  are  some  in  the 
South  as  large  as  any  deer  in  America  that  are 


The  Mule- deer  223 

plainly  of  the  stubby-tailed  variety ;  and  the  uni- 
formity of  their  tails  is  so  great  that  the  difference 
between  them  and  the  tail  of  the  other  can  hardly 
be  attributed  to  age  or  accident.  All  of  them 
are  misrepresented  by  the  great  American  artist. 
They  do  not  have  great  calf  snouts,  but  fine  black 
noses,  and  they  do  not  stand  with  their  mouths 
open  and  antlers  laid  back,  screaming  at  each 
other.  They  can  do  some  effective  fighting  at 
times,  though  half  a  dozen  bucks  may,  during 
rutting  time,  be  on  such  friendly  terms  that  one 
who  is  cool  can  bag  them  all  without  leaving  his 
tracks.  They  do  not  snort  as  much  as  the  Vir- 
ginia deer,  and  when  they  do  the  snort  lacks 
most  of  the  hollow  whistling  sound  of  the  latter. 
One  seeing  the  feed  on  most  of  their  range 
would  imagine  that  the  mule-deer  of  the  south 
of  California  would  rarely  make  good  venison. 
It  is  quite  the  reverse,  and  an  animal  entirely 
devoid  of  fat  is  both  tender  and  juicy,  provided 
it  is  not  emaciated  from  sickness.  Yearlings  and 
does,  unless  barren,  rarely  have  any  fat  on  them, 
and  the  best  three-year-old  buck  rarely  has 
enough  to  brag  of.  None  ever  get  as  fat  as  the 
Virginia  deer  in  the  East,  but  they  are  all  good 
venison  just  the  same.  The  proportion  of  bucks, 
too,  that  are  musky  in  rutting  time  is  far  less 
than  on  the  Atlantic  coast.  Most  large  deer 
with  necks  swelled  to  the  greatest  capacity  are 


224  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

perfectly  free  from  it.  Once  in  a  great  while 
there  is  a  very  strong  one,  and  I  once  had  a  pork 
barrel  ruined  by  trying  to  extract  the  flavor  from 
a  big  buck  by  pickling  it.  I  met  another  once 
at  night  that  must  have  been  fifty  yards  away,  and 
was  brought  to  a  sudden  halt  by  the  strong  flavor 
of  muskrat  coming  down  a  little  gulch  on  the 
evening  breeze.  He  gave  a  snort  and  ran,  but 
the  stream  of  scent  remained  for  a  minute  or  so 
longer.  Such  cases,  however,  are  extremely  rare, 
and  the  deer  is  nearly  always  worth  your  labor. 

The  mule-deer  of  the  southern  coast  of  the  Pa- 
cific is  a  special  blessing  to  many  because  he  is 
at  his  best  in  summer,  when  they  can  get  away 
from  business ;  whereas  at  that  time  still-hunting 
is  almost  an  impossibility  in  the  rainy  lands  be- 
cause of  the  great  density  of  the  cover  when  the 
green  of  summer  is  at  its  height.  But  still-hunt- 
ing here  is  then  about  the  same  as  in  the  fall,  ex- 
cept that  the  period  of  seclusion  is  not  as  fully 
over.  On  the  other  hand,  the  venison  is  at  its 
fattest,  while  the  weather  is  as  charming  for  camp- 
ing as  one  could  wish  and  rarely  too  warm  for 
morning  or  evening  hunting.  One  is  not  driven 
to  lick-watching,  fire-hunting,  or  any  of  the  miser- 
able modes  of  murder  resorted  to  at  that  time  in 
the  East  by  those  who  must  have  a  deer.  But 
one  can  here  enjoy  to  the  full  that  satisfaction 
which  results  from  matching  one's  self  with  un- 


The  Mule- deer  225 

aided  wits  against  an  animal  knowing  so  well  how 
to  care  for  itself,  that  when  you  seek  it  you  had 
better  leave  in  camp  everything  in  the  nature  of 
a  gillie  or  a  guide  or  even  your  best  hunting  com- 
panion, or  you  will  only  double  the  chances  of  its 
slipping  away  unsuspected.  And  you  had  better 
wear  soft  moccasins  as  well  as  in  the  East,  and 
take  every  other  precaution  consistent  with  cover- 
ing ground  enough.  When  you  have  learned  him 
well  you  will  say  that  the  mule-deer  is  the  peer 
of  any  game,  next  to  the  Virginia,  and  almost 
equal  to  him. 

Note.  —  Much  that  applies  with  equal  force  to  modes  of  hunting 
this  deer  has  been  stated  under  the  title  of  the  blacktail,  and  could 
not  well  be  repeated  without  trespassing  on  the  patience  of  the 
reader  who  knows  how  to  apply  the  principles. 


CHAPTER   III 

THE   COLUMBIA   BLACKTAIL 

With  the  exception  of  a  few  Virginia  deer  in 
southern  Arizona,  which  belong  really  to  Sonora, 
the  deer  of  the  entire  western  slope  of  the  con- 
tinental divide  has  a  shorter  tail  than  the  Vir- 
ginia deer,  with  black  hairs  in  the  end.  In  most 
of  them  the  tail  is  short,  with  a  tuft  of  hair,  mostly 
black,  at  the  end.  As  the  tail  is  not  carried  up, 
but  droops  over  the  white  rump  so  as  to  make 
the  black  show  plainly,  all  the  deer  of  the  Pacific 
coast  and  the  interior  basin  to  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains are  called  the  "  blacktail  "  by  way  of  distinc- 
tion from  the  Virginia  deer,  which,  over  all  that 
range,  is  called  the  "  whitetail." 

But  there  is  a  plain  difference  between  the  deer 
of  the  southern  half  of  California  and  those  of  the 
northern  half.  The  latter  inhabit  the  whole  coast 
west  of  the  crest  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  while  the 
deer  of  the  southern  half  run  the  whole  length 
of  Lower  California  (Mexico).  The  dividing  line 
between  the  two  is  not  easy  to  define,  but  it  is  a 
strip  of  fifty  to  seventy  miles  wide  about  the 
centre  of  the  state.  The  deer  of  the  southern 
half  is  called  the  mule-deer  by  those  who  know 
the  difference,  and  those  of  the  north  the  black- 

226 


The  Columbia  Blacktail  227 

tail,  or  Columbia  blacktail  when  they  wish  to  be 
more  particular.  Beyond  this  belt  the  mule-deer 
is  very  rare  on  the  range  of  the  blacktail,  while 
the  blacktail  is  practically  unknown  on  the  range 
of  the  mule-deer.    > 

The  line  between  their  eastern  and  western 
range  is  much  more  easy  to  define  in  the  case  of 
the  blacktail.  While  the  mule-deer  at  all  points 
passes  to  the  east  over  the  crest  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada,  the  blacktail  does  not  pass  it  to  any 
extent ;  and  it  is  the  same  on  the  continuation  of 
the  great  range  into  the  Cascades  of  Oregon.  I 
have  found  them  as  far  east  as  Klamath  Lake, 
but  this  is  but  a  few  miles  over  the  crest  of  the 
range,  the  general  character  of  the  woods  and 
feed  being  the  same.  Eastward  of  that  the  mule- 
deer  only  is  found. 

The  blacktail  seems  to  care  little  for  open  coun- 
try, and  is  found  almost  entirely  in  timber  or  heavy 
brush.  The  evergreen  brush,  or  chaparral,  that 
robes  many  of  the  hills  of  northern  California  with 
miles  of  wavy  folds,  is  one  of  his  favorite  abodes. 
While  the  greater  part  of  this  is  too  dense  for  the 
hunter  to  penetrate  with  comfort,  and  too  high  for 
him  to  see  anything  until  almost  upon  it,  there  are 
many  openings  which  he  can  thread  with  ease, 
many  points  upon  which  he  can  sit  and  look  down 
upon  the  dozens  of  acres  where  a  pair  of  horns 
may  come   surging  into  sight  above  the  sea  of 


228  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

verdure,  or  a  curve  of  glistening  hair  may  rise 
and  fall  like  the  dolphin  through  the  wave  as  the 
deer  discovers  the  hunter's  presence.  Though 
the  greater  number  will  be  found  in  the  heavy 
timber  which  covers  most  of  the  range  of  this  deer, 
throughout  the  southern  part  of  its  range  it  will 
be  found  from  coast  to  mountain  top  in  this  heavy 
brush  almost  as  much  as  in  the  timbered  portions. 
In  the  mountains  the  blacktail  roves  to  the 
highest  points  on  which  there  is  soil  enough  to 
show  his  footstep ;  and  often,  where  there  is  not, 
the  mark  where  his  sharp  feet  have  scraped  upon 
the  rock  may  be  seen.  But  these  tracks  are  made 
mainly  at  night,  and  apparently  the  deer  goes  there 
out  of  curiosity.  The  maker  of  such  tracks  is 
hardly  ever  found  there  by  daylight,  nor  does  he 
leave  any  bed  or  other  sign  of  staying  long.  He 
spends  the  day  far  below,  where  the  arctic  willow 
nods  over  the  bubbling  spring,  where  the  snowy 
columbine  gives  place  to  the  red  one,  where  the 
tiger-lily  flames  in  the  little  green  meadow  and  the 
mountain-alder  rears  its  brilliant  green.  But  even 
this  is  too  high  for  most  of  them.  For,  unless 
much  persecuted,  the  majority  of  deer  will  be 
found,  not  where  the  chinquapin  is  dwarfed  by 
cold  to  a  mere  mat  along  the  ground,  on  the  top 
of  which  one  can  almost  walk,  but  where  the 
sunny  tinge  of  the  golden-leaved  live-oak  warms 
the  heavy  shades,  where  the  sugar-pine  bends  its 


The  Columbia  Blacktail  229 

flattened  crown  over  the  tall  shaft  of  the  incense- 
cedar  that  rises  red  and  shaggy  from  the  hillside 
below;  and  even  farther  down  where  the  alder 
weaves  arcades  over  the  hissing  brook  in  which 
the  trout  begin  to  flash,  where  the  call  of  the 
mountain-quail  rings  along  the  tumbling  hills,  and 
the  wings  of  the  dove  whistle  through  the  silvery 
sheen  of  the  fir.  From  there  down  to  the  foot- 
hills, and  in  their  shaggy  pockets,  and  so  on  to 
the  very  shore  of  the  shining  sea,  this  deer  will 
be  found  wherever  there  is  cover  enough  to  fur- 
nish hiding. 

Before  the  snow  is  deep  nearly  all  the  deer 
leave  the  high  mountains,  and  in  the  Cascades 
most  of  them  start  even  before  the  falling  of  any 
snow  that  is  to  be  permanent.  They  wander 
down  into  the  lower  and  more  brushy  portions 
of  the  range,  sometimes  on  well-defined  trails, 
but  quite  as  often  without  any.  Here,  too,  there 
is  plenty  of  snow  on  the  higher  hills,  and  most 
of  the  deer  keep  in  the  lower  flats  and  brushy 
gorges  or  go  on  to  the  Coast  Range.  Here  they 
join  a  number  of  their  fellows  that  did  not  go  to 
the  mountains,  but  remained  all  summer  in  the 
Coast  Range.  The  principle  on  which  only  a 
portion  of  these  deer  travel  so  regularly  to  the 
high  mountains  every  spring  is  not  known.  It  is 
plainly  not  for  want  of  food,  for  the  necessities  of 
breeding,  to   escape   gnats,   flies,   or  other   such 


230  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

cause ;  because  the  numbers  that  remain  are  very 
great,  and  they  fare  as  well  and  keep  as  fat  as 
those  that  go  away.  In  some  places,  as  in  south- 
western Oregon,  the  number  remaining  is  plainly 
greater  than  those  that  depart,  and  the  hunting 
is  better  there  than  in  the  Cascades  to  which  the 
others  have  gone.  When  they  return  and  unite 
with  those  that  have  stayed,  their  numbers  are 
often  very  great,  and  on  snow  it  is  very  easy  to 
kill  several  in  a  day.  It  is  under  such  conditions 
that  the  mighty  hunters  of  Oregon  do  much  of 
their  work.  It  is  mainly  by  loafing  along  the 
trail  during  the  migration  that  "  Old  Bill "  So-and- 
so  kills  three  hundred  a  year.  And  "  Old  Pete  " 
What-you-call-him  goes  a  hundred  or  more  better 
by  following  them  to  the  coast,  where  he  used 
often  to  make  his  winter  camp  and  slaughter  deer 
solely  for  the  skins.  As  much  of  the  migration 
is  during  the  rutting  time,  when  the  bucks  are 
more  careless  than  usual,  it  is  an  easy  matter  for 
one  with  the  patience  to  sit  on  a  log  and  wait, 
to  kill  plenty  of  game  by  simply  knowing  the 
lines  of  migration.  And  these  they  often  narrow 
up  with  a  brush  fence,  along  which  the  deer  wan- 
der far  if  undisturbed  rather  than  leap  it.  Here 
at  an  opening  the  butcher  is  often  placed  on  a 
scaffold ;  and  the  world  thinks  him  a  mighty  hun- 
ter because  he  kills  so  many,  a  wondrous  shot 
because  he  does  it  with  the  old-fashioned  Win- 


The  Columbia  Blacktail  231 

Chester.  But  in  spite  of  all,  plenty  of  deer  are 
still  left  on  these  ranges,  and  will  be  to  the 
end  of  time.  There  are  too  many  million  acres 
of  timber  and  brush  the  plough  can  never  invade ; 
and  the  heavy  hand  the  law  has  now  laid  on  the 
game  butcher,  and  the  market-shooter,  and  the  skin- 
hunter  will  only  tighten  its  grip  as  the  years  come. 
As  we  go  north  from  the  southern  part  of 
Oregon  the  timber  becomes  more  dense  with  the 
increasing  rainfall,  and  the  bushes  whose  twigs 
the  deer  loves  become  more  scarce  in  the  sombre 
shades.  The  deer  does  not  like  to  go  far  for 
feed,  and  likes  it  tender  and  succulent,  and  the 
great  ferns  which  rise  out  of  the  gloom  and  damp- 
ness are  not  to  his  taste.  The  blacktail  is  there- 
fore growing  scarcer.  Though  still  found  far  in 
the  north,  it  is  in  limited  numbers,  and  in  places 
he  disappears  almost  entirely.  Over  the  greater 
part  the  timber  is  becoming  such  a  tangle  of 
fallen  trees,  broken  limbs  with  spots  of  swampy 
ground,  through  all  which  so  many  big  ferns  and 
other  things  that  love  damp  shades  struggle  up 
higher  than  your  head,  that  real  pleasure  is  nearly 
out  of  the  question  even  if  game  were  very  abun- 
dant. Feed  for  your  horse  is  too  scarce  and  too 
hard  to  carry  even  where  a  horse  can  travel  well. 
And  a  hundred  deer  might  stand  within  a  hun- 
dred yards  without  your  seeing  one  of  them, 
while  as  many  dogs  might  run  them  in  as  many 


232  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

directions  without  giving  you  a  shot  that  you 
could  make  except  by  chance.  The  best  hunting 
is  farther  south,  where  the  timber  is  more  open 
and  the  brush  lower.  Nothing  can  surpass  that 
part  of  southwestern  Oregon  which  the  blank 
space  on  the  map  shows  unsurveyed,  especially 
on  the  head  waters  of  the  Coquille  River  and  in 
the  Rogue  River  Mountains.  It  is  so  rough  that 
the  hunter  almost  never  goes  there,  while  the 
scarcity  of  feed  in  places  makes  it  no  trifling 
matter  to  keep  your  horses  strong  enough  to  take 
you  out  again.  But  it  is  a  grand,  picturesque 
country,  the  natural  home  of  the  elk  as  well  as 
the  deer,  abounding  in  grouse,  mountain-quail, 
and  trout,  and  well  worth  a  visit  by  one  who 
wants  to  see  the  wild  and  the  new,  far  beyond  the 
orbit  of  the  tenderfoot  or  his  stylish  guide. 

Like  other  deer  the  blacktail  rarely  touches 
grass.  He  loves  the  tender  leaves  and  twigs  of 
the  salal,  huckleberry,  and  other  shrubs  that 
abound  on  the  greater  part  of  his  range.  So 
numerous  are  these  that  he  can  always  get 
enough,  and  you  need  never  trouble  yourself  to 
know  what  he  is  living  on.  It  will  cut  very  little 
figure  in  your  hunting,  and  aid  you  very  little  in 
tracing  a  deer's  movements  as  it  often  does  in 
many  other  countries.  In  a  few  places  their 
movements  might  be  influenced  by  acorns  in 
season,  but  for  only  a  short  time,  if  at  all. 


The  Columbia  Blacktail  132 

The  same  is  true  of  the  water.  Springs  and 
creeks  are  so  common  on  most  of  this  deer's 
home  that  its  movements  are  little  affected  by 
watering,  while  the  browse  is  so  succulent  on  a 
thousand  shrubs  that  it  often  goes  days  or  weeks 
without  drinking  at  all.  For  these,  and  other 
reasons  hereafter  noticed,  the  hunting  of  the  black- 
tail  lacks  the  attraction  that  the  Virginia  deer 
affords  in  many  parts  of  the  East,  and  the  mule- 
deer  in  many  parts  of  southern  California. 
There  is  too  much  ground  on  which  there  is 
nothing  to  do  but  rove  the  woods  and  shoot 
when  you  happen  to  see  something.  This  is 
tame  beside  working  out  the  whereabouts  of  your 
game  by  your  knowledge  of  its  habits,  and  match- 
ing your  skill  against  its  wariness  from  morning 
until  night. 

The  habits  of  the  blacktail  are  much  the  same 
as  those  of  his  family  in  general.  Mainly  a  rover 
of  the  night,  he  prefers  a  good  moon,  though 
quite  able  to  manage  his  legs  in  the  deepest 
darkness.  During  the  ten  or  twelve  days  when 
the  moon  is  the  brightest,  you  may  find  plenty  of 
fresh  tracks  in  the  morning  as  soon  as  it  is  light 
enough  to  see.  But  the  area  you  can  traverse 
without  seeing  one  of  the  deer  that  made  them 
is  quite  as  astonishing  as  it  is  elsewhere.  Hav- 
ing been  induced  by  the  moon  to  be  on  foot  most 
of  the  night,  the  game  has  a  full  stomach,  all  the 


234  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

exercise  it  needs,  before  daylight,  and  has  wan- 
dered off  to  some  good  place  to  lie  down  for  the 
day.  This  early  lying  down  often  causes  more 
early  rising  in  the  evening,  but  as  a  rule  even  the 
evening  hunting  is  very  unsatisfactory  when  the 
moon  is  at  or  near  the  full. 

The  nature  of  the  ground  is  generally  such 
that  it  is  very  difficult  to  track  this  deer  except 
on  snow.  To  track  to  advantage  without  snow 
the  ground  must  be  free  enough  from  vegetation 
to  enable  you  to  see  several  yards  ahead  on  the 
trail.  For  if  you  have  to  keep  your  eyes  fixed 
on  the  ground  near  by  to  pick  out  single  tracks, 
your  work  is  far  too  slow,  and  you  have  not  the 
range  of  vision  needed  to  see  the  game  before  it 
can  see  you.  This  alone  calls  for  all  the  eyesight 
you  have.  On  ground  where  the  movements  of 
deer  are  quite  regular  it  is  not  necessary,  and 
seldom  advisable,  to  keep  on  the  trail  all  the  time. 
It  should  often  be  left  in  places  and  a  detour 
made  to  avoid  wind  or  get  a  better  place  of  obser- 
vation, or  a  bit  of  ground  where  you  will  make 
less  noise.  In  such  case,  by  your  knowledge  of 
the  deer's  habits,  you  can  generally  pick  up  the 
track  farther  on.  But  on  the  home  of  the  black- 
tail  the  ground  is  generally  so  covered  with 
grass,  herbs,  or  shrubs  that  the  trail  cannot  be 
seen  at  a  glance  even  by  the  best-trained  eye,  so 
that  tracking  without  snow  is  entirely  too  slow. 


The  Columbia  Blacktail  235 

Like  other  deer  this  child  of  suspicion  so  quickly 
learns  the  difference  between  the  step  of  a  horse 
bearing  a  man  and  the  step  of  one  without  that 
little  can  be  gained  by  hunting  on  horseback. 
The  knowledge  seems  almost  intuitive ;  though,  if 
belled  cattle  are  ranging  the  woods,  deer  can  be 
deceived  by  a  bell  on  the  horse,  and  also  by  a  bell 
on  the  man  without  a  horse.  But  this  does  not 
last  long,  and  only  the  first  inventors  of  the  trick 
are  likely  to  profit  by  it. 

The  blacktail  is  also  a  difficult  deer  to  drive, 
surround,  or  cut  off.  Though  if  left  alone  he  will 
generally  take  an  easy  path,  like  the  mule-deer 
he  will  go  anywhere  when  alarmed,  and  is  quite 
likely  to  go  where  you  least  suspect.  For  this 
reason  there  is  no  use  in  two  or  more  trying  to 
hunt  together  except  in  rare  cases  around  some 
point  or  some  brushy  basin  where  one  may  go 
around  to  where  the  deer  may  come  out.  The 
surest  way  is  alone  and  on  foot. 

On  most  of  the  territory  covered  by  this  deer 
there  are  few  places  where  one  can  stop  at  a 
house  and  go  out  in  the  morning  or  evening 
with  much  chance  of  a  successful  hunt.  Farm- 
houses are  not  scattered  through  these  great 
woods  as  they  once  were  in  so  many  parts  of  the 
East.  A  pack  train  is  generally  necessary,  for 
there  are  not  many  places  where  good  hunting 
can  be  had  even  with  a  wagon.     Although  you 


236  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

may  not  be  a  butcher  or  care  a  cent  for  "  heads  " 
or  "  trophies,"  which  generally  mean  throwing 
away  a  whole  animal,  you  may  still  have  a  pardon- 
able pride  in  shooting  at  a  little  more  than  you 
can  yourself  consume.  If  so,  you  will  probably 
be  unable  to  give  the  meat  away,  and  find  very 
little  fun  in  turning  the  camp  into  a  butcher 
shop  to  dry  it.  I  have  been  in  the  Coast  Range 
of  Oregon  for  three  weeks  at  a  time  where  I  could 
see  from  ten  to  twenty  deer  a  day  in  merely  rid- 
ing through  the  woods.  There  was  nothing  to 
do  but  look  at  them,  however,  for  not  a  sign  of 
man  or  any  of  his  works  was  there  for  many  a 
long  league.  All  this  is  very  pleasant,  and,  for 
those  who  have  had  a  surfeit  of  hunting,  as  good 
as  shooting,  but  it  does  not  satisfy  the  majority  of 
hunters. 

In  many  other  places  the  timber  and  brush 
are  so  dense  that,  though  deer  are  very  plentiful, 
there  is  nothing  to  do  but  wait  around  some 
opening  for  a  deer  to  come  out.  To  one  who 
loves  the  chase  solely  for  the  opportunity  to 
play  his  wits  against  the  shrewdness  of  the  game, 
this  is  intolerable.  For  such  the  remedy  in  either 
case  is  to  select  big  bucks  and  start  them  going. 
When  the  Columbia  blacktail  starts  on  his  rico- 
chet course  through  fallen  timber  or  rocks,  or 
even  on  quite  open  ground,  you  are  in  no  immi- 
nent danger  of  being  troubled   by  the  question 


THE  RETURN  FROM  THE  HUNT 


The  Columbia  Black  fail  237 

of  what  to  do  with  your  game.  For  you  will 
find  many  unsuspected  rocks  to  dash  your  bullet 
into  leaden  spray,  and  many  a  big  log  to  absorb 
it  just  about  the  time  the  game  vanishes  in  grace- 
ful curve  over  its  top. 

Subject  to  these  limitations,  the  hunting  of  the 
blacktail  is  in  many  ways  the  finest  now  to  be 
found.  On  much  of  its  range,  such  as  the  upper 
tiers  of  the  Cascade  Range,  the  grass  is  so  plenty 
you  can  camp  almost  anywhere,  while  the  woods 
are  generally  so  open  that  travel  alone  is  a  delight. 
Here  are  meadows  and  open  glades  around  which 
in  summer  you  may  see  many  a  pair  of  velvet 
horns  rise  from  the  low  brush  when  the  sun- 
light begins  to  gild  the  tips  of  the  towering 
pine,  with  plenty  of  ridges  just  right  for  walk- 
ing and  commanding  a  good  view  of  the  slopes 
below.  Mosquitoes,  flies,  and  other  torments  are 
almost  unknown ;  cool  nights  and  bright  days 
that  are  none  too  hot  are  generally  a  certainty; 
and  while  rain  is  a  possibility,  it  is  quite  safe  to 
start  on  a  long  trip  with  no  tent  but  the  starry 
sky,  as  in  the  greater  part  of  California. 

The  eyes  of  the  blacktail  seem  fully  as  keen 
as  those  of  the  Virginia  deer,  but,  like  the  mule- 
deer,  he  is  not  so  easily  started  by  noise.  This 
is  not  because  his  ears  are  at  all  inferior.  He  is 
simply  taking  chances  instead  of  leaving  chances 
well  in  the  rear,  as  the  Virginia  deer  generally 


23 8  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

does  nowadays.  Nor  does  it  prove  that  quiet 
walking  is  not  important.  On  account  of  the 
nature  of  much  of  the  ground  you  must  make 
considerable  noise,  or  you  cannot  move  fast 
enough.  And  you  will  find  many  a  deer  that 
must  have  heard  you  coming,  but  does  not  run 
without  waiting  to  see  what  you  are.  These 
deer  hear  you  and  are  generally  calculating  on 
outwitting  you  by  hiding.  But  they  often  change 
their  minds  when  they  find  you  coming  closer, 
and  too  often  they  cannot  resist  the  temptation  to 
stop  a  second  to  see  if  it  is  really  worth  while 
to  run  at  all.  After  much  hunting  they  learn 
to  act  on  the  presumption  of  danger;  but  even 
then  you  occasionally  meet  a  very  great  fool  of  a 
deer  which  will  persist  in  staring  at  the  new 
rifle  of  the  rawest  tenderfoot  that  ever,  with 
hobnailed  boots,  smashed  dead  sticks  it  was  more 
easy  to  step  over.  Meeting  such  a  deer  often 
makes  the  novice  think  he  is  a  born  hunter,  but 
if  he  will  keep  on  a  while  he  will  recover  from 
the  delusion,  and  begin  to  wonder  what  has  be- 
come of  his  keen  eye  and  steady  hand. 

One  is  apt  to  conclude  that  noise  is  of  little 
account  in  hunting;  but  time  will  surely  show 
that,  for  every  deer  he  sees  when  making  a  noise, 
two  or  three  slip  away  before  he  can  come  within 
sight  of  them,  some  in  full  bound,  whose  tracks 
he  may  find  when  too  late,  others  sneaking  quietly 


The  Columbia  Blacktail  239 

off  into  the  brush,  that  would  have  remained  in 
the  open  had  they  not  heard  the  step  of  man. 

For  much  the  same  reasons  many  think  the 
keenness  of  a  deer's  nose  overestimated.  But 
the  more  one  hunts  the  more  one  will  be  amazed 
at  the  distance  a  deer  can  smell  a  man  on  a  very 
light  breeze,  and  the  quickness  with  which  it  will 
run  as  well  as  the  distance  it  will  go  before  stop- 
ping ;  for  when  a  deer  runs  from  noise  it  is  often 
mere  suspicion,  he  is  not  sure  what  the  scent  is. 
The  same  is  sometimes  the  case  when  he  runs 
from  the  sight  of  a  man,  though  not  so  often. 
But  when  one  runs  from  the  scent  of  man  it  is 
because  he  knows  full  well  what  it  is.  He  stops 
not  to  farther  question,  and  is  so  fully  satisfied  at 
once  that  you  are  not  likely  to  catch  sight  of 
him  that  day.  And  this  sense  is  so  transmitted 
by  descent  that  the  youngest  fawn  to  leave  its 
mother  will  run  from  the  distant  scent  of  man 
without  stopping  to  look  back  until  well  out  of 
sight.  This  seems  in  many  cases  almost  absurd, 
and  especially  where  the  air  is  so  deadened  by 
heavy  timber  that  there  is  no  apparent  motion 
in  it.  But  the  exceptions  are  caused  by  cross 
currents  that  carry  the  scent  away,  and  not  by  any 
lack  of  keenness  in  the  nose  of  the  deer,  or  by 
any  lack  of  fear  when  the  first  particle  of  scent 
strikes  it.  In  this  respect  the  blacktail  is  as  hard 
to  circumvent  as  any  of  his  family. 


24°  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

Like  other  deer,  this  one  is  very  stupid  about 
making  out  the  figure  of  a  man  at  perfect  rest, 
but  amazingly  quick  to  detect  his  slightest  mo- 
tion and  know  what  it  imports.  There  is  no  way 
of  avoiding  this,  and  between  deer  and  hunter 
the  advantage  lies  with  the  one  at  rest  when 
the  other  comes  in  sight.  Not  much  can  be 
gained  by  wearing  clothes  of  any  special  color. 
Dull  brown  or  gray  are  less  striking  colors  than 
others,  though  turkey-red  or  something  no  fool 
can  mistake  for  a  deer  are  nowadays  more  desir- 
able. In  timber,  even  with  plenty  of  snow,  deer 
can  see  you  so  plainly  when  moving  across  the 
trunks  of  trees  that  there  is  no  perceptible  advan- 
tage in  white  clothes. 

The  most  difficult  trick  of  the  blacktail  to  cir- 
cumvent is  his  hiding  or  skulking  in  brush,  and 
letting  you  pass  very  close  to  him,  well  knowing 
you  do  not  see  him.  All  deer  seem  to  learn  that 
in  very  dense  cover  this  is  generally  safer  than 
running.  I  have  had  the  Virginia  deer  lie  still 
in  the  long  slough  grass  of  the  prairie  and  in  the 
reeds  of  river  bottoms  until  I  was  within  a  few 
feet.  But  the  deer  of  the  Pacific  coast  escape  in 
this  way  more  than  deer  elsewhere,  especially  in 
the  heavy  chaparral  which  robes  in  eternal  green 
so  much  of  the  southern  part  of  the  range  of  the 
blacktail.  Nor  does  he  require  such  dense  cover 
for  this  purpose  as  one  would  imagine  from  expe- 


The  Columbia  Bkcktail  241 

rience  with  the  Virginia  deer.  In  a  little  valley 
of  a  few  acres  in  the  wildest  part  of  the  Coast 
Range  of  Oregon  we  camped  at  noon,  and  two  of 
our  party  went  out  to  shoot  some  mountain-quail 
which  were  running  about  in  all  directions  in 
great  numbers.  One  had  a  shotgun  and  the 
other  a  twenty-two  rifle,  with  which  they  fired 
fully  thirty  shots,  besides  making  a  great  amount 
of  noise.  For  an  hour  before  that  our  party  of 
four  had  been  making  the  usual  noise  incidental 
to  stopping  to  camp  and  get  dinner.  After  din- 
ner I  set  out  for  the  woods  with  my  rifle,  passing 
within  twenty  feet  of  a  clump  of  brush  some  fifty 
feet  in  diameter.  The  brush  was  thin  and  stood 
alone  well  out  in  the  valley,  the  rest  of  which  was 
covered  with  grass.  My  two  companions  had 
been  shooting  all  around  it.  After  I  was  well 
past  it,  a  large  doe  bounded  out  of  it  in  full  sight 
of  all  of  us,  and  vanished  like  an  arrow  in  the 
dense  timber  on  the  side.  As  we  were  many  a 
league  beyond  the  last  sign  of  man,  fresh  or  old, 
it  was  not  likely  that  that  deer  had  ever  known 
much  of  the  ways  of  man. 

A  "  slow-tracking "  dog,  or  bird  dog  trained  to 
point  deer  the  same  as  birds,  is  the  only  thing 
you  can  rely  on  in  still-hunting  to  find  a  skulking 
deer.  For  if  the  ground  is  such  that  you  can 
follow  the  trail  yourself,  they  will  often  sneak 
quietly  around,  if  the  brush  is  large  enough  in 


242  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

extent,  or  slip  out  of  a  small  patch  with  head  down 
and  noiseless  trot,  where  it  may  take  you  too  long 
to  untangle  the  network  of  tracks  so  that  you  can 
be  sure  to  find  the  track  on  which  it  slipped  away. 
Such  a  dog  is  hard  to  get  in  training,  and  harder 
still  to  keep  on  account  of  the  great  temptation 
to  let  him  chase  a  crippled  deer  some  day  when 
you  want  venison.  Very  few  dogs  can  be  in- 
dulged in  that  amusement  without  becoming 
speedily  convinced  that  you  know  nothing  of 
hunting,  that  you  are  entirely  too  slow,  and  that 
the  game  is  sure  to  escape  your  antiquated 
methods.  Especially  is  this  the  case  on  ground 
where  it  is  expedient  to  leave  the  trail  for  a  short 
cut,  or  for  some  better  point  of  view,  or  to  avoid 
wind,  and  pick  it  up  farther  on.  The  temptation 
for  the  dog  to  show  you  he  knows  better  is  very 
great,  and  if  he  has  the  wind  of  the  deer,  he  is 
very  apt  to  slip  away  and  find  the  game  at  his 
best  pace.  Still  more  apt  is  he  to  break  away 
after  the  first  shot,  especially  if  the  deer  is  wounded 
or  is  in  plain  sight  upon  an  opposite  hillside. 

Nothing  sets  a  dog  more  crazy  than  catching  a 
crippled  deer.  By  allowing  this  just  once  in  each 
case  I  ruined  three  of  the  best  dogs  I  ever  had 
—  one  a  Laverack  setter,  one  a  hound,  and  one  a 
Scotch  terrier,  all  trained  to  point  deer  and  all 
docile  and  obedient  in  all  respects  until  I  yielded 
to  the  temptation  to  let  them  chase  a  cripple  that 


The  Columbia  Blacktail  243 

was  a  little  too  fast  for  me.  Before  that  they 
would  point  as  well  as  any  dogs  on  birds ;  the 
setter  just  as  if  on  birds,  but  with  nose  far  higher, 
the  hound  by  sitting  up  on  his  haunches  and 
looking  around  at  me  and  tossing  his  nose  high 
in  air,  the  terrier  by  rising  much  of  the  time  on 
his  hind  legs  and  sniffing  high  in  air.  The  first 
two  I  could  trust  a  hundred  yards  ahead  with  per- 
fect safety.  The  terrier  I  kept  mostly  at  heel, 
but  in  another  year  he  would  have  been  as  safe 
to  trust  ahead  as  the  others. 

The  bird  dog  seems  best  adapted  for  this  pur- 
pose because  more  likely  to  take  the  wind  rather 
than  the  foot-scent.  But  the  work  of  "  a  slow- 
track  dog  "  is  quite  as  effective  in  most  cases  and 
just  as  interesting.  He  is  generally  some  old 
hound  or  combination  of  hound  and  mongrel  that 
smells  his  way  across  bushes,  grass,  and  weeds, 
even  of  the  dryest,  in  a  manner  quite  marvellous. 
The  way  he  can  smell  the  touch  of  a  deer's  leg 
against  a  single  spear  of  grass  when  the  track 
shows  you  that  the  deer  passed  hours  before,  is  as 
interesting  as  any  of  the  sights  of  the  field.  With 
such  dogs  you  can  enjoy  hunting  almost  as  well 
without  the  rifle  as  with  one.  No  training  seems 
required  except  to  let  the  dog  know  what  you 
want  by  ignoring  all  other  game  and  keeping 
him  absolutely  at  heel  until  he  has  outgrown  the 
temptation  to  chase  anything. 


244  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

In  the  sense  in  which  success  is  understood 
in  most  parts  of  the  East,  driving  this  deer  with 
hounds  can  hardly  be  called  such  on  the  greater 
part  of  its  range,  while  on  much  it  is  quite  sure 
to  be  a  failure.  There  are  places,  like  The  Lake 
of  the  Woods  or  Diamond  Lake,  where  it  could 
no  doubt  be  driven  to  water.  But  still-hunting 
is  there  so  much  better,  it  would  be  foolish  to 
take  dogs  so  far.  In  parts  of  northern  California 
dogs  are  often  used  to  drive  deer  out  of  heavy 
brush.  If  this  is  in  a  basin  surrounded  by  ridges 
on  which  men  can  be  posted  so  as  to  have  a  fair 
view  of  the  proceedings,  this  will  do  very  well. 
But  on  the  greater  part  of  the  Pacific  coast,  deer 
have  no  regular  runways  as  in  many  parts  of  the 
East.  Though  they  prefer  open  places  when  not 
in  haste,  when  they  are  in  haste  they  go  any- 
where. In  dodging  into  unsuspected  ravines, 
twisting  around  big  rocks,  and  dashing  over  big 
logs,  the  blacktail  is  equalled  only  by  the  mule- 
deer.  In  heavy  brush  and  rocks  the  mule-deer 
can  far  surpass  him,  but  on  most  ground  the 
blacktail  is  as  much  ahead  of  the  Virginia  deer 
in  this  respect  as  the  latter  is  in  flirting  his  snowy 
tail  over  some  distant  ridge  at  the  first  crackling 
of  a  dry  twig  under  the  hunter's  foot. 

On  the  southern  part  of  its  range  hounding  the 
blacktail  becomes  even  more  difficult  in  many 
places  on  account  of  the  scarcity  of  water.     When 


The  Columbia  Blacktail  245 

the  air  is  hot  and  very  dry,  the  dog's  scent  is  soon 
impaired  by  running,  especially  in  rough  or  brushy 
ground.  He  does  not  pass  water  often  enough  to 
drink,  and  has  few  or  no  wet  weeds  or  grasses  to 
run  through  to  wet  his  coat.  Hence  still-hunting 
is  in  most  cases  the  more  satisfactory  way  of 
hunting. 

As  is  usual  in  all  still-hunting,  the  greater  num- 
ber of  deer  are  lost  by  the  inability  of  the  hunter 
to  see  them  before  they  can  see  him.  On  the 
enormous  background  on  which  most  of  the  black- 
tail  must  be  detected  by  the  eye  this  is  even  more 
difficult  than  in  most  of  the  woods  of  the  East. 
Almost  everywhere  in  heavy  timber  it  takes  the 
finest  of  eyesight  to  see  a  deer  before  he  is  descend- 
ing over  some  distant  log  or  wheeling  around  the 
upturned  butt  of  some  great  fallen  tree  —  gone 
just  as  you  raise  the  rifle  and  often  before.  The 
deer  with  individual  hairs  glistening  on  its  back, 
with  dew  claws  and  even  the  split  in  the  hoofs 
all  in  plain  sight,  exists  only  in  the  mind  of  the 
artist  of  pavement  education.  No  such  animal  is 
seen  in  nature.  Nor  does  the  deer  in  the  woods 
correspond  much  better  to  the  picture  you  have 
formed  in  your  mind  from  seeing  a  deer  in  a  park 
or  stuffed  in  a  museum.  Generally  you  see  none 
of  the  legs,  and  unless  the  game  is  in  motion  rarely 
see  more  than  half  of  the  body.  But  at  the  time 
you  most  want  to  catch  sight  of  it  —  before  it  can 


246  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

see  you  —  a  deer  more  often  has  its  head  down 
like  that  of  an  old  cow,  or  stuck  in  a  bush  feed- 
ing, or  out  of  sight  around  some  log  from  which 
the  shoulder  or  other  part  of  the  body  can  hardly 
be  distinguished.  Except  when  he  raises  his 
head,  once  in  a  while,  to  look  around  for  danger, 
the  most  shapely  old  buck  has  none  of  the  grace- 
ful form  of  the  artist's  deer,  but  is  more  often  a 
mere  spot  or  patch  of  brown,  gray,  or  even  nearly 
black,  with  some  white  occasionally  showing. 
The  consequence  is  that  it  takes  long  training  of 
the  eye  to  see  such  an  animal  quickly  enough  to 
get  a  standing  shot,  if  it  is  at  rest,  while  to  see 
one  lying  down  is  only  a  rare  accident  in  the 
woods.  And  even  from  the  very  best  eyes  the 
majority  of  deer  escape  because  they  are  so  very 
quick  to  detect  the  slightest  motion  of  the  hunter, 
who  has  to  keep  moving  in  order  to  cover  enough 
ground. 

All  these  difficulties  are  increased  on  most  of 
the  ground  that  forms  the  home  of  the  blacktail. 
A  deer  always  looks  small  enough  over  the  sights  of 
the  rifle, but  among  the  great  redwoods,  Port  Orford 
cedars,  sugar-pines,  and  firs  of  this  coast  the  black- 
tail  often  looks  more  like  a  rabbit.  For  this  reason 
there  are  vast  areas  on  which  true  still-hunting 
is  about  impossible.  Fire-hunting  could  rarely 
be  a  success,  for  lakes  are  not  abundant  on  most 
of  the  range,  while  nearly  all  the  streams  are  too 


The  Columbia  Blacktail  247 

swift  and  turbulent  for  floating.  And  it  is  also 
quite  certain  that  the  deer  of  this  coast  does  not 
have  the  love  for  water  at  night  the  Virginia  deer 
shows  on  most  of  its  range. 

Very  little  can  be  done  by  making  a  salt  lick 
or  using  a  natural  one.  On  much  of  this  coast 
deer  will  not  lick  salt  at  all,  while  on  other  parts 
they  do  it  very  sparingly.  Such  hunting  is  too 
slow  for  the  market-shooter  and  too  tame  for  the 
sportsman.  But  there  is  still  enough  open  and 
beautiful  territory  to  make  the  hunting  of  this 
deer  one  of  the  most  charming  amusements  the 
land  beyond  the  pave  can  offer.  And  there  is  no 
more  stirring  target  for  the  rifle  than  this  trim 
little  creature  leaping  the  fallen  trunks  of  the 
great  trees  that  shade  its  home.  Nature  presents 
no  fairer  sight  than  the  Virginia  deer  leaping  the 
logs  that  lie  piled  here  and  there  in  ruinous  con- 
fusion in  the  windfall.  But  that  deer  runs  like  a 
horse,  and  the  logs  are  small  compared  with  those 
in  the  home  of  the  blacktail.  The  blacktail  is  a 
bouncing  deer  —  all  four  feet  striking  the  ground 
together,  and  throwing  the  animal  much  higher  at 
each  stroke  than  it  would  rise  in  a  canter.  Hence 
its  course  is  often  the  wildest  ricochet ;  and,  though 
it  waves  aloft  no  snowy  flag  as  if  in  mockery  of 
your  hopes,  the  elevation  of  the  head  is  greater, 
while  you  can  easily  imagine  the  big  bright  eyes 
watching  at  the  top  of  the  spring  your  vain  efforts 


248  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

to  connect  with  the  delusive  curve.  For  one  who 
loves  the  rifle  as  much  for  what  cannot  be  done 
with  it  as  for  what  can,  there  is  no  finer  target 
than  this.  When  on  the  ground  it  is  out  of  sight, 
and  so  quick  is  its  twist  from  side  to  side  that 
you  have  no  idea  where  it  will  again  appear  above 
the  logs.  Nor  will  it  avail  you  much  if  you  do, 
for  by  the  time  the  fur  comes  into  sight  at  the  top 
of  the  next  lofty  curve  you  have  no  more  than 
time  enough  for  a  snap  shot.  And  should  you 
succeed  in  getting  the  sights  on  the  exact  centre 
when  you  fire,  the  mark  is  certain  to  be  above  or 
below  that  point  by  the  time  the  lead  arrives. 
Try  to  avoid  this  by  aiming  lower,  and  the  bullet 
may  send  the  bark  flying  under  the  deer's  legs 
with  a  whiz  that  switches  him  on  a  tangent,  and 
disarranges  all  the  feeble  calculations  you  have  so 
far  been  able  to  make. 

If  you  aim  higher  as  the  deer  is  rising,  you  then 
tempt  another  danger,  always  too  great  —  over- 
shooting. There  is  no  royal  road  out  of  the  diffi- 
culty, and  even  when  you  hit  one  in  the  head  or 
back  of  the  neck,  although  it  is  quite  certain  you 
did  not  aim  there,  your  pride  is  quite  pardonable, 
and  you  will  love  the  windfall  only  the  more.  It 
is  just  possible,  too,  that  you  may  be  mistaken 
about  the  importance  of  hitting  something  all  the 
time.  It  took  me  eleven  days  where  deer  were 
very  plenty,  thirty-five  years  ago,  just  to  get  sight 


The  Columbia  Black-tail  249 

of  the  first  deer.  It  was  more  than  eleven  more 
before  I  was  able  to  hit  one.  Yet  I  never  enjoyed 
anything  so  much  as  the  consciousness  that  the 
game  was  all  around  me  and  that  only  my  own 
stupidity  was  at  fault. 

At  first  the  tyro  wants  a  deer  and  cares  very 
little  how  he  gets  it.  Well,  there  are  everywhere 
plenty  of  open  places,  until  you  get  far  into  the 
North,  where  the  openings  are  too  barren  or  defi- 
cient in  such  shrubs  as  the  deer  loves.  But  every- 
where on  the  southern  half  of  the  playground  of 
this  deer  there  are  grand  open  ridges  only  partly 
covered  with  timber,  having  long  avenues  down 
which  you  can  see  clearly  for  many  a  rod.  So 
there  are  sunny  slopes  on  which  deer  stand  to 
catch  the  morning  sun  before  going  off  to  lie 
down  for  the  day,  and  big  shady  flats  where  on  a 
hot  morning  they  may  stay  as  long  in  the  shade 
before  going  to  rest.  Then  there  are  plenty  of 
sharp  ridges  ending  in  points  over  which  the 
chinquapin  waves,  with  the  grand  madrono  and 
the  laurel,  but  with  plenty  of  open  spots  on  which 
the  deer  will  often  stop  to  survey  the  landscape 
as  he  comes  up  from  below,  and  where,  in  cool 
weather,  he  prefers  to  lie  in  the  sun  rather  than 
in  the  depths  of  the  timber. 

As  a  rule  it  will  rarely  pay  you  to  look  for  this 
deer  in  bed.  In  this  respect  he  is  the  worst  of 
his  tribe.     Unless  you  have  snow  to  track  on,  or 


250  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

bare  ground  where  a  track  shows  several  yards 
ahead  so  that  to  the  practised  eye  the  trail  appears 
to  stand  up  out  of  the  ground,  it  is  rarely  worth 
while  to  look  for  one  in  bed.  To  see  them  is 
next  to  impossible  on  most  ground,  while  jumping 
one  out  of  bed  in  such  a  way  as  to  get  a  shot  is 
almost  as  uncertain,  and  pays  only  when  you  have 
nothing  to  do  but  tramp.  Especially  is  this  the 
case  with  the  blacktail.  It  has  a  greater  variety 
of  places  for  lying  down  than  any  other  deer,  and 
they  are  scattered  over  a  much  larger  area.  In 
the  greater  part  of  the  woods  it  may  lie  down 
anywhere,  and  even  in  the  open  country  there  is 
still  so  much  brush  into  which  it  is  quite  apt  to 
go,  that  you  had  better  confine  your  hunting  to 
morning  and  evening. 

And  you  need  not  expect  much  success  early 
in  the  summer.  For  the  blacktail  has  everywhere 
the  same  period  of  seclusion  that  other  deer  have, 
especially  on  this  coast.  In  May  and  June  and 
the  early  part  of  July  they  move  very  little,  and 
that  generally  by  night.  Not  having  to  go  to 
water  to  escape  flies  or  mosquitoes,  or  for  drink 
while  the  young  leaves  are  tender  and  juicy,  they 
remain  most  of  the  time  quiet  in  the  deep  thickets, 
rocky  glens,  and  rugged  gulches  or  windfalls, 
where  you  may  generally  make  all  the  noise  you 
wish  without  making  one  even  run  in  such  a  way 
that  you  can  see  him.     Even  tracks  may  be  so 


The  Columbia  Blacktail  251 

scarce  that  you  may  think  they  have  all  left  the 
country. 

But  toward  August  deer  begin  to  move  about 
more,  until  it  sometimes  seems  as  if  there  must 
have  been  a  migration  from  some  distant  point. 
The  fawns  are  now  large  enough  to  take  care  of 
themselves,  and  though  they  may  stay  with  the 
mother,  she  does  not  hesitate  to  leave  them  and 
they  are  equally  indifferent  about  losing  her,  both 
well  knowing  that  it  is  an  easy  matter  to  come 
together  again.  The  rutting  time  is  also  begin- 
ning along  the  coast  and  in  the  midland  ranges, 
though  it  is  later  in  the  mountains.  Consequently 
the  bucks  begin  to  move  over  a  larger  area,  stay 
on  foot  much  longer  in  the  morning,  and  rise  much 
earlier  in  the  evening.  Deer  now  seem  to  love 
open  ground  as  much  as  they  before  avoided  it. 
Far  away  your  eye  may  catch  one  by  the  sheen 
of  the  sun  on  his  lengthening  hair,  or,  if  in  shade, 
you  may  see  him  equally  well  by  the  dark  spot 
his  autumn  coat  makes  against  the  ground.  It 
takes  keen  eyes  to  do  even  this,  and  still  keener 
to  detect  one  in  brush  by  the  faint  movement  it 
may  make  in  feeding,  or  when  it  shows  only  one 
ear,  round  as  a  lobe  of  prickly  pear  and  very  much 
like  it,  or  when  there  is  but  a  bit  of  rump  with  the 
little  black  tail  projecting  from  a  bush. 

The  action  of  the  bucks  during  the  rutting  time 
is  much  like  that  of  the  other  deer.     The  does 


252  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

act  about  the  same  as  at  any  other  time  of  year, 
but  the  bucks  become  more  careless  when  on  foot, 
travelling  faster  and  farther,  feeding  less,  and 
remaining  on  foot  even  during  the  whole  of  the 
day  at  times.  During  this  time  you  may  often 
see  them  on  foot  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  though 
they  have  probably  lain  down  and  risen  again, 
unless  on  trail  of  a  doe.  In  the  latter  case  they 
are  quite  careless  and  fall  an  easy  victim  to  one 
who  happens  in  the  way  and  can  keep  cool.  Some- 
times several  are  on  the  same  trail,  and  the  sound 
of  the  rifle  that  brings  the  first  to  the  ground  has 
little  or  no  effect  on  the  others  if  they  do  not  see 
the  hunter  move.  But  unless  a  buck  is  on  his 
travels,  he  is  apt  to  be  as  wary  at  this  time  of  year 
as  at  any  other,  as  when  he  is  feeding,  or  has  gone 
off  to  lie  down  for  the  day.  It  is  not  safe  to  be 
careless  in  any  respect  even  at  the  height  of  the 
rutting  season,  or  "  running  time  "  as  it  is  gener- 
ally called. 

Like  other  deer  the  blacktail  watches  its  back 
track  after  being  started,  but  I  never  could  see 
that  they  watched  it  before  being  started.  Even 
in  lands  as  wild  as  Minnesota  and  Wisconsin 
were  thirty-five  years  ago  I  soon  discovered  that 
the  Virginia  deer  knew  enough  to  watch  its  back 
track  before  being  alarmed,  and  in  places  prac- 
tised it  so  well  that  it  could  be  tracked  success- 
fully only  by  half  circles,  keeping  on  the  side  out 


The  Columbia  Black  fail  253 

of  sight  of  the  trail  and  swinging  in  only  often 
enough  to  be  sure  I  was  on  it.  The  blacktail 
often  lies  down  on  points  that  command  a  view 
of  the  back  track  as  well  as  a  much  larger  area, 
but  I  cannot  discover  that  it  is  done  purposely, 
and  on  all  its  range  it  is  probably  safe  enough  to 
keep  on  the  track,  where  you  can  follow  it  at  all. 

The  blacktail  is  a  smaller  and  more  graceful 
animal  than  the  mule-deer,  bearing  much  the 
same  relation  to  it  that  a  thoroughbred  Jersey 
bears  to  a  Durham.  But  this  is  only  when  you 
compare  the  two  side  by  side  in  a  park.  In  the 
woods  none  but  the  expert  can  note  the  differ- 
ence, and  it  will  puzzle  him  if  the  deer  is  run- 
ning. Though  its  ears  are  larger  than  those 
of  the  Virginia  deer,  being  nearly  seven  inches 
long  by  six  wide  on  a  big  buck,  or  nearly  an 
inch  larger  each  way  than  the  ear  of  the  Vir- 
ginia, it  is  in  other  respects  even  finer-limbed 
and  neater-looking.  Its  forehead  is  broader, 
and  its  nose  a  trifle  sharper,  with  the  intervening 
bridge  narrower,  making  a  more  expressive  face, 
which  is  still  farther  beautified  by  large  bright 
eyes,  that  outshine  those  of  the  other  deer. 

This  one  varies  greatly  in  size  and  form, 
scarcely  any  two  individuals  being  alike.  All 
that  I  have  seen  average  decidedly  smaller  than 
the  eastern  deer  that  I  have  known.  I  never 
weighed  one  or  got  figures  from   any  one   that 


254  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

are  reliable.  But  I  am  certain  that  very  few 
of  the  bucks  will  weigh  over  one  hundred  and 
twenty  pounds,  dressed.  Does  are  not  likely  to 
run  over  eighty  or  ninety  at  best.  The  length 
of  a  good  buck  from  tip  of  nose  to  root  of  tail 
as  he  stands  is  about  five  feet  three  inches,  with 
a  girth  of  three  feet  at  the  shoulder.  Its  height 
at  the  brisket  is  about  eighteen  inches,  or  about 
the  same  as  the  shank  of  the  hind  leg.  More 
will  fall  short  of  these  figures  than  come  up  to 
them,  though  some  are  longer  legged,  and  some 
longer  or  deeper  bodied  than  others.  The  red 
or  bay  coat  of  early  summer  has  a  richer  tinge 
than  on  the  Virginia  deer,  and  more  of  this 
remains  visible  in  the  gray  coat  of  winter  than 
on  the  other.  In  other  respects  the  coat  is  much 
the  same. 

Always  bad  enough  as  an  index  of  age  in  any 
deer,  the  antlers  of  the  blacktail  are  still  worse. 
They  are  generally  delicate  and  well  propor- 
tioned, but  most  of  them  are  merely  forked 
horns,  presenting  few  points  compared  with  the 
age  of  the  buck.  A  good  pair  will  be  twenty- 
two  or  three  inches  long,  with  a  spread  of  two 
feet  or  even  more,  though  it  is  often  less.  What 
in  the  East  would  be  called  a  very  fine  head  is 
rare  among  these  deer. 

A  careless  eye  would  note  little  difference 
between   the   tail   of   the   blacktail   and   that   of 


The  Columbia  Blacktail  255 

the  mule-deer.  But  it  is  considerable.  Both 
are  of  about  the  same  length,  rarely  over  seven 
inches,  and  in  marked  contrast  with  that  of  the 
Virginia  deer.  But  the  tail  of  the  blacktail  is 
nearly  uniform  in  size  from  base  down,  except 
at  the  tip,  which  comes  to  a  sudden  point  with 
a  slight  upward  curve.  It  is  quite  black  on 
top,  and  about  halfway  down  this  shade  spreads 
around  to  the  sides,  shading  into  brown,  and 
that  into  white  on  the  under  side.  This  white 
is  wider  at  the  root,  narrowing  to  the  tip,  which 
is  nearly  all  black  except  for  a  few  brownish- 
white  hairs.  The  tail  is  round  and  quite  even 
in  circumference  as  compared  with  other  deer 
tails.  It  is  carried  a  little  higher  than  the  tail 
of  the  mule-deer,  though  this  cannot  be  noticed 
unless  the  animals  are  at  rest.  There  is  little 
or  no  elevation  of  the  tail  in  running,  and  when 
the  blacktail  is  under  full  headway  one  would 
hardly  suspect  it  had  a  tail. 

The  feet  are  so  nearly  of  the  same  size  and 
shape  as  those  of  other  deer  that  one  cannot 
tell  the  difference  in  the  track.  And  its  general 
habit  of  straggling  here  and  there,  crossing  and 
recrossing  its  trail  as  it  gets  near  the  time  for 
lying  down,  is  so  like  the  movement  of  the  mule- 
deer,  that  when  one  is  on  the  border  line  of  the 
ranges  of  the  two  it  is  impossible  to  tell  by  the 
track  which  one  made  it. 


256  Deer  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

Though  these  two  range  together  over  a  con- 
siderable space  near  the  centre  of  California,  and 
the  rutting  time  is  there  about  the  same  for  each, 
I  can  find  no  evidence  of  the  two  intermingling. 
It  is  possible  that  they  do,  for  one  must  be  some- 
thing of  an  expert  to  detect  a  hybrid.  The  ordi- 
nary hunter  is  too  intent  on  meat,  hides,  or  heads, 
to  notice  such  trifles  as  the  tail.  Without  this 
one  could  be  easily  deceived.  But  it  is  probable 
that  they  do  not  mix,  for  careful  examination 
shows  them  essentially  different  deer. 

Note.  —  Much  that  has  been  said  of  the  hunting  of  the  blacktail 
applies  as  well  to  the  mule-deer,  while  much  of  the  article  on  the 
mule-deer  applies  as  well  to  the  blacktail.  To  repeat  the  same 
under  each  would  be  tiresome  to  the  reader,  and  unnecessary  for 
those  who  already  know  enough  of  deer  to  be  interested  in  these 
two  varieties. 


THE   CARIBOU 

By  Daniel  G.  Elliot 


THE   CARIBOU 

Among  the  larger  members  of  the  deer  tribe 
inhabiting  North  America  the  caribou  may  fairly 
claim  a  place.  Less  imposing  in  appearance  than 
the  gigantic  moose  or  majestic  elk  or  wapiti, 
and,  when  undisturbed  and  removed  from  danger 
possessing  a  careless,  indeed  a  slouchy  carriage, 
yet  this  deer,  with  his  often  splendid  antlers, 
palmated  and  many-pointed,  his  hairy  muzzle, 
peculiar  among  the  deer  tribe,  and  deeply  cleft 
hoofs,  and  his  compact,  sturdy  frame,  is  one  of 
the  really  notable  wild  denizens  of  our  northern 
forests  and  wind-swept  arctic  plains.  His  range 
in  North  America,  under  various  names,  is  as 
wide  as  the  continent  itself,  and  extends  from 
the  northern  borders  of  the  United  States  to  the 
Arctic  Sea,  the  Barren-Ground  animal  not  often 
passing  south  of  590  N.  lat.  although  in  1856 
they  migrated  to  latitude  47 °  in  great  numbers 
to  Lake  Huron.  The  Woodland  do  not  go  north 
of  6o°,  and  probably  only  a  comparative  few  reach 
that  latitude. 

Caribou  are  divided  into  two  classes,  the  Wood- 
land, embracing  those  which  are  habitually  dwell- 

259 


260  The  Caribou 

ers  of  the  forests,  rarely  venturing  any  distance 
from  the  shelter  of  the  woods;  and  the  Barren- 
Ground,  or  those  inhabiting  the  vast  tundras  of 
Arctic  America,  which  regularly  migrate  from  the 
forest  to  the  open  plains,  and  seek  the  depths  of 
the  woods  only  as  a  refuge  from  the  fierce  storms 
of  winter.  When  moving  slowly  along,  nipping 
a  tender  branch  from  a  wayside  bush  or  seizing 
a  mouthful  of  moss  from  the  wet  "  savanne,"  the 
caribou,  with  low-hanging  head,  apparently  over- 
weighted by  the  great  antlers,  the  hoofs  clicking 
as  with  lazy  effort  they  are  successively  drawn 
from  the  reluctantly  yielding  ooze  of  the  marsh, 
presents  anything  but  an  attractive  appearance. 
Yet  look  at  the  same  individual  when  the  tainted 
air  brings  to  his  sensitive  nostrils  the  scent  of  a 
dangerous  adversary;  how  changed  he  suddenly 
becomes !  The  listless,  careless  pose  gives  place 
to  one  animated  and  full  of  spirited  attention ;  the 
head  is  lifted  and  carried  proudly  aloft,  crowned 
by  its  noble  weapons  of  offence  and  defence ; 
the  ears,  from  their  drooping  attitude,  the  tips 
directed  backward,  are  thrown  forward  and  seem 
to  quiver  with  excitement  as  in  quick  movement 
they  seek  to  locate  the  avenue  of  the  enemy's 
approach;  the  legs  are  rigid,  each  muscle  drawn 
and  tense,  ready  to  respond  to  the  first  call  for 
supreme  exertion.  And  then  the  foe  appearing, 
how  grand  and  animated  is  the  animal's  move- 


THE   CARIBOU    OF  THE    BARREN    GROUNDS 


\ 


The  Caribou  261 

ment  as,  in  a  stately  trot,  with  head  and  tail 
uplifted,  the  clicking  hoofs,  like  castanets,  beating 
time  to  the  swift  action  of  the  limbs,  the  proud 
deer  passes  rapidly  from  view  over  the  yielding 
moss  of  the  treacherous  swamp.  The  Woodland 
caribou  is  a  shy,  suspicious  animal  in  those  locali- 
ties where  he  has  had  the  opportunity  of  making 
the  acquaintance  of  his  great  enemy,  man,  and 
when  frightened  and  fully  satisfied  that  danger 
is  near,  he  will  never  cease  travelling  until  he 
has  placed  a  great  distance  between  himself  and 
the  cause  of  his  fears.  Restless  in  the  extreme, 
they  are  ever  roving  the  forest,  and  travel  many 
miles  every  day  and  night. 

In  order  to  consider  the  habits  of  the  caribou, 
it  will  be  necessary  to  divide  them  into  their  two 
classes,  the  Woodland  and  the  Barren-Ground, 
and  take  each  separately.  While  numerous  spe- 
cies and  races  have  been  made  of  these,  by  those 
who  believe  that  the  infinite  variations  of  nature 
must  be  followed  by  an  infinity  of  names,  yet  for 
the  purpose  of  recounting  the  caribou's  mode  of 
life  all  these  deer,  irrespective  of  their  habitat,  are 
practically  one  species,  for  their  ways  differ  only  in 
degree.  The  Woodland,  which  we  will  first  con- 
sider, as  their  name  implies,  are  mainly  dwellers 
of  forest  lands,  and  are  usually  found  in  the 
swamps,  where  the  trees  are  few,  though  their 
margins  are  bordered  by  the  dense  woods.     In 


262  The  Caribou 

such  places  they  find  in  abundance  the  moss 
which  forms  their  chief  subsistence,  and  also  in 
the  proper  season  the  buds  of  various  shrubs  of 
which  they  are  very  fond. 

In  the  spring  the  Woodland  caribou  seek  the 
sides  of  the  mountains,  and  in  summer  are  usually 
found  near  their  summits,  hiding  during  the  day 
in  dense  thickets,  coming  out  at  night  to  wander 
about  their  chosen  locality.  At  this  season  the 
horns  are  tender  and  in  the  velvet,  and  the  animals 
do  not  roam  about  much,  food  being  usually  plenti- 
ful on  every  side.  Should  there  be  a  lake  in  their 
vicinity,  which  is  indeed  usually  the  case,  its  banks, 
that  are  generally  muddy,  will  be  found  each  morn- 
ing covered  with  the  fresh  tracks  of  the  deer  that 
have  wandered  around  it  during  the  night.  The 
woods  also  that  are  much  frequented  by  caribou 
have  many  well-beaten  paths  ramifying  in  all  di- 
rections through  them,  made  by  these  animals  in 
their  marches  from  place  to  place ;  and  to  follow 
one  of  these  is  not  only  to  find,  often,  the  only 
method  of  traversing  the  forests,  but  the  shortest 
way  of  reaching  some  desired  spot,  for  the  deer 
seem  to  prefer  a  direct  route  between  two  points. 
The  female  caribou,  which  also  carries  antlers 
much  smaller  and  weaker  than  those  of  the  male, 
brings  forth  her  young  in  the  spring  usually  one 
only,  but  occasionally  two  are  produced  —  minia- 
ture representatives  of  the  adult  animal.     In  the 


The  Caribou  263 

autumn  short  migrations  northward  are  made,  and 
the  higher  parts  of  the  mountains  are  deserted 
for  the  valleys  where  food  can  be  more  readily 
obtained.  The  summer  coat  is  a  dark  gray  or 
mouse  color,  with  a  white  caudal  patch  and  white 
under  parts.  The  depth  and  shade  of  the  darker 
hues  varies  greatly  even  among  individuals  from 
the  same  locality,  and  the  size  of  the  caudal  patch 
is  rarely  the  same  in  any  two  individuals.  In 
winter  the  neck  becomes  nearly  pure  white  and 
the  body  is  often  of  a  very  light  hue.  The  ant- 
lers vary  to  a  degree  that  is  absolutely  without 
limit  both  as  to  size  and  shape,  and  not  only  do 
those  of  different  individuals  vary,  but  the  two 
beams  with  their  tines  exhibited  by  any  deer  differ 
from  each  other,  and  the  yearly  antlers  of  the 
same  caribou  rarely  have  any  resemblance  one 
with  the  other. 

The  methods  of  hunting  the  Woodland  caribou 
are  few  and  simple.  In  September,  after  the  vel- 
vet has  been  rubbed  away,  the  law  generally  per- 
mits these  animals  to  be  killed.  At  this  time, 
the  rutting  season  is  beginning,  and  the  bulls  are 
getting  restless  and  commence  to  travel  the  woods 
seeking  the  cows,  and  their  hoarse  call,  something 
between  a  grunt  and  a  bark,  can  often  be  heard 
in  the  early  mornings,  occasionally  even  during 
the  day.  There  is  no  snow  upon  the  ground, 
and  tracking  would  be  fruitless,  for  although  the 


264  The  Caribou 

imprint  of  this  deer's  hoof  in  the  soft  ground 
is  large  and  readily  seen,  yet  the  impossibility  of 
moving  through  the  swamps  and  bushes  without 
noise  would  make  such  a  method  of  pursuit  of 
little  avail,  as  the  deer,  learning  of  his  foe's  pres- 
ence, would  betake  himself  to  distant  pastures 
long  before  a  shot  were  possible,  or  even  a  sight 
of  himself  obtained,  for,  it  must  be  understood, 
the  Woodland  caribou,  unlike  his  rather  stupid 
brother  of  the  plains,  is  a  wide-awake  and  suspi- 
cious animal.  Still-hunting,  therefore,  and  that 
of  the  "  stillest "  kind,  and  one  not  at  all  usually 
conceived  by  the  term,  is  the  only  one  promising 
success. 

This  method  of  still-hunting  consists  of  taking 
a  position  in  a  swamp,  or  "  savanne  "  as  it  is  usually 
called,  and  waiting  for  the  appearance  of  the  deer 
as  it  passes  by,  either  in  search  of  food  or  of  other 
individuals  of  its  species.  These  swamps  are 
usually  surrounded  by  thick  woods,  and  occasion- 
ally are  of  very  considerable  extent,  carpeted  with 
moss  sometimes  two  feet  or  more  in  depth  and 
saturated  with  water,  and  the  dreary  view  is 
broken  at  intervals  by  clumps  of  bushes  or  small 
trees  scattered  here  and  there  at  irregular  inter- 
vals. Upon  some  fallen  log  or  stump,  or  bit  of 
moss  slightly  drier  than  the  rest  and  partly  hid- 
den from  view  by  surrounding  bushes,  growing 
or  artificially  placed,  the  hunter  seats  himself  and 


The  Caribou  265 

prepares  for  a  long  vigil,  perhaps  lasting  the  en- 
tire day.  Oh,  the  weariness  of  it !  Afraid  hardly 
to  move,  every  sense  alert  and  on  the  strain,  listen- 
ing for  the  unmistakable  "  squash  "  of  the  deer's 
hoof  as  it  is  drawn  from  mud  and  water,  fearing; 
to  smoke  lest  the  telltale  perfume  announces  one's 
presence  to  the  watchful  game,  and  mosquitoes 
and  black  flies  having  a  merry  and  never  end- 
ing banquet  from  every  exposed  portion  of  the 
hunter's  person  unless  thickly  covered  by  some 
anti-poison  abomination,  pursuit  (if  it  can  be 
called)  of  this  deer  at  such  times  and  in  such 
places  cannot  be  considered  either  a  pleasure  or 
within  the  true  meaning  of  sportsmanship.  If 
the  caribou  should  wander  that  way,  and  the 
chances  are  ten  to  one  it  will  not,  a  point-blank 
shot  at  a  few  paces  is  afforded,  requiring  about  as 
much  skill  to  bring  down  the  quarry  as  it  would 
to  shoot  a  cow  in  a  barnyard. 

Frequently,  too,  even  although  it  may  be  as  late 
as  the  middle  of  October,  so  irregular  are  these 
deer  in  shedding  the  velvet  from  their  horns,  that 
after  enduring  the  torments  of  foes  in  the  air  with 
their  varied  means  of  torture  and  those  arising 
from  stiffened  muscles  and  cold  winds,  the  hunter 
may  only  be  rewarded  by  an  animal  carrying  the 
coveted  antlers  not  yet  come  to  their  matured 
perfection.  But  even  then  few  complain,  for  the 
vast  majority  of  these  "  hunts  "  draw  a  blank,  the 


266  The  Caribou 

chances  being  so  very  few  of  the  deer  in  those 
vast  marshes  coming  where  the  sportsman  has 
located  himself,  and  if  it  does  draw  near,  the 
hunter's  presence  is  likely  to  be  detected  in  time 
for  the  animal  to  make  its  escape. 

Another  method,  and  one  that  savors  much 
more  of  true  sportsmanship,  is  stalking.  In  many 
parts  of  eastern  North  America,  vast  tracts  of 
treeless  land,  covered  with  rocks  and  moss,  are 
found  within  forest  districts,  called  "barrens." 
To  these  the  caribou  resort,  sometimes  in  herds 
of  hundreds  of  individuals,  while  in  the  forest  only 
a  comparatively  few  animals  are  found  together. 
The  hunter  from  some  point  of  vantage  sweeps 
the  ground  before  him  with  a  powerful  glass,  and 
when  some  fine  "  head  "  is  discovered,  methods 
for  getting  within  shot  of  the  animal,  possibly  a 
mile  away,  are  considered  and  a  plan  of  approach 
determined  upon.  Then  follows  an  exhibition  of 
a  hunter's  skill  and  sagacity  against  the  natural 
attributes  of  the  deer,  whose  powers  of  scent  and 
sight,  with  those  of  its  companions,  are  to  battle 
with  man's  experience  and  fertility  of  resource. 
As  the  stalk  proceeds  every  rock  and  inequality 
of  the  ground  is  seized  upon  as  a  point  of  vantage, 
every  breath  of  air  considered  lest  an  unwelcome 
scent  be  carried  to  the  trembling  nostrils  ever 
ready  to  detect  its  presence.  As  the  distance 
between  pursuer  and  pursued  lessens,  redoubled 


The  Caribou  267 

care  and  vigilance  is  exercised,  and  the  halts  of 
the  hunter  become  more  numerous  and  of  longer 
duration.  In  the  meanwhile  the  object  of  all  this 
solicitude  and  strenuous  endeavor  is  either  quietly 
chewing  the  cud  as  he  rests  in  his  grassy  bed, 
scanning  at  times  the  landscape  before  him,  or 
seizing  mouthfuls  of  moss  as  he  slowly  moves 
among  the  cows,  upon  whose  more  watchful 
guardianship  he  relies  when  in  their  company. 
But  the  breeze  brings  no  hostile  odor,  and  quiet 
reigns,  disturbed  only  by  some  wild  bird's  cry  as 
it  flies  over  the  barren.  And  now  the  supreme 
moment  has  arrived,  the  last  crouching  move- 
ment has  been  successfully  made,  the  desired 
spot  from  which  a  sure  shot  could  be  directed 
has  been  reached,  and  the  deer,  unconscious  of 
danger,  stands  proudly  erect,  gazing  over  the  land 
he  knows  so  well,  at  the  mercy  of  his  greatest 
enemy.  A  rising,  fleeting  vapor  above  a  near- 
lying  rock,  a  sharp  crack  hardly  disturbing  the 
silence  of  the  wide  barren,  and  the  lordly  bull 
falls  headlong  to  the  ground,  while  the  cows, 
startled,  trot  rapidly  away  for  a  short  distance  and 
then  turn  and  stop,  to  learn  the  cause  of  their 
fears. 

One  other  way  of  capturing  caribou  is  attempted, 
and  of  all  those  adopted  is  probably  the  most 
successful.  This  is  following  the  animal  on  snow- 
shoes.     Caribou  are  very  swift,  their  gaits  being 


268  The  Caribou 

the  walk,  trot,  and  gallop.  The  one  most  usual  to 
them  is  the  trot,  and  the  spreading  of  their  great 
hoofs,  which  are  split  apart  nearly  to  the  hock, 
renders  them  able  to  carry  the  animal  over  snow 
or  soft  ground  much  in  the  manner  that  a  snow- 
shoe  does  a  man.  In  the  winter  the  frog  of  the 
caribou's  hoof  becomes  entirely  absorbed,  leaving 
the  interior  a  concave  shape,  the  edges  all  around 
become  of  almost  razor  sharpness,  giving  the 
animal  a  firm  hold  on  the  ice  or  hardened  crust, 
preventing  it  from  slipping.  Captain  Campbell 
Hardy,  a  British  army  officer  who  knew  as  much 
about  caribou  and  their  ways  as  any  man  of  his 
time,  mentions  as  a  fact,  in  his  "  Forest  Life  in 
Acadie,"  that  these  animals  crossed  from  New- 
foundland to  the  mainland  in  winter  on  the  ice, 
and  that  Nova  Scotia  animals  have  been  killed 
measuring  four  feet  six  inches  at  the  withers,  thus 
equalling  in  height  the  most  extreme  dimensions 
of  any  Newfoundland  specimens  of  which  I  have 
any  knowledge.  On  the  ice  the  pursuit  of  cari- 
bou is  vain,  for  it  can  travel  much  faster  on  the 
slippery  surface  than  any  other  creature,  and  if  it 
suddenly  sees  a  new  danger  ahead  it  has  the  habit 
of  squatting  on  its  haunches,  and  in  this  ludicrous 
attitude  slides  along  until  the  impetus  of  its  pace 
has  been  exhausted,  and  then  rises  and  shoots  off 
in  another  direction.  In  the  snow  its  tracks  are 
clearly  seen  and  easily  followed.     When  first  en- 


The  Caribou  269 

countered  the  hunter  endeavors  to  determine  the 
route  the  animal  has  taken  and  then  studies  the 
direction  of  the  wind  to  ascertain  if  it  is  favorable 
for  the  pursuit,  that  is,  blowing  from  the  animal 
toward  him.  If  not,  before  following  his  quarry, 
the  sportsman  makes  a  detour  so  that  no  scent 
may  be  carried  to  the  deer,  which  may  be  slowly 
walking  along,  or  resting  in  some  thicket.  As 
the  hunter  proceeds,  eagerly  regarding  the  prints 
in  the  snow,  the  chances  are  that  the  deer,  one  or 
more  as  the  case  may  be,  will  suddenly  dash  out 
from  some  near  thicket  and  disappear  before  him 
in  a  perfect  cloud  of  snow  thrown  up  by  their 
broad  hoofs.  Then  the  chase  commences,  to  be 
decided  by  sheer  endurance  or  possibly  a  lucky 
chance  shot  at  a  moment  when  the  caribou  may 
stop  and  turn  to  have  a  look  at  their  enemy. 

Unlike  other  deer,  caribou  have  no  difficulty  in 
travelling  over  light  snow,  only  sinking  into  the 
drifts  to  a  moderate  depth ;  and  their  first  endeavor 
is  to  reach  the  frozen  surface  of  some  lake  or 
stream,  for  it  is  useless  to  follow  this  animal  upon 
the  ice,  as  on  its  slippery  expanse  it  can  easily 
outstrip  all  its  pursuers.  Failing  this  refuge,  it 
plunges  on  through  forest  and  swamp  and  barren, 
and  he  who  hopes  to  overtake  and  secure  this 
deer  over  a  snow-mantled  land  must  have  muscles 
of  steel  and  expansive  lungs.  Instances  are  known 
when  it  has  taken  several  days  of  constant  going 


270  The  Caribou 

on  snow-shoes  before  the  band  that  was  being 
pursued  was  finally  overtaken.  When  hard 
pressed,  and  their  efforts  to  baffle  their  pursuers, 
in  woods  or  swamps  or  tangled  thickets,  have 
proved  unavailing,  caribou  will  take  to  the  moun- 
tains and  seek  their  summits,  thus  adding  greatly 
to  the  toil  and  exposure  of  the  hunt.  In  New- 
foundland in  certain  localities  this  deer  is  fre- 
quently killed  in  the  water,  being  pursued  in  boats 
when  crossing  lakes,  for  it  is  a  famous  swimmer 
and  does  not  hesitate  to  cross  a  wide  expanse  of 
lake  or  stream. 

This  method  of  hunting  will  probably  by  some 
be  considered  as  not  altogether  savoring  of  true 
sportsmanship.1  But,  my  critical  friend,  have  you 
ever  tried  to  follow  a  Woodland  caribou  in  win- 
ter through  the  forests  and  barrens,  mountains, 
swamps,  and  valleys  ?  It  is  man's  endurance  pitted 
against  that  of  the  deer,  reinforced  on  the  latter's 
side  by  its  native  wariness  and  ability  to  baffle 
pursuit,  while  the  snow-shoe  is  but  little  superior 
to  the  broad  hoofs  of  the  deer  in  passing  over  or 
through  snow,  and  on  the  ice  the  hunter  is  hope- 
lessly outclassed.  Many  unfortunates  have  re- 
turned to  camp  weary  and  worn  from  a  long  and 

1  It  is  emphatically  unsportsmanlike  to  follow  caribou  or  any  other 
of  the  deer  family  on  snow  which  requires  snow-shoes.  On  a  light 
tracking  snow  it  is  fair  and  good  sport,  but  when  the  animal  sinks 
to  its  hocks  it  is  a  cruel  game  and  excusable  only  when  meat  is 
needed.  —  Editor. 


The  Caribou  271 

fruitless  chase  at  such  seasons  after  this  caribou, 
wiser  and  sadder  men. 

In  Newfoundland  great  herds  of  caribou  have 
roamed  for  a  longer  period  than  the  mind  of  man 
can  fathom ;  and  from  their  heavy  antlers  and 
some  other  slight  characters  these  animals  have 
been  characterized  as  a  distinct  species.  Migrat- 
ing regularly  to  the  southward  in  the  autumn 
and  northward  in  the  spring,  favorable  oppor- 
tunities were  given  to  hunters  to  watch  for  them 
on  their  usual  routes  and  kill  as  many  as  they 
pleased,  for  they  are  gentle  animals  in  that  island 
and  permit  one  to  approach  closely  before  mak- 
ing an  effort  to  escape.  But  this  misplaced 
confidence  in  the  deer's  greatest  enemy  was  fear- 
fully abused,  and  a  single  butcher  (no  other  term 
will  properly  designate  the  creature),  as  I  have 
been  informed,  killed  as  many  as  forty  to  fifty  deer 
in  a  single  foray,  leaving  most  of  the  carcasses  to 
rot  upon  the  ground.  Then  the  legislature  in- 
tervened and  passed  a  law  compelling  all  non- 
residents of  the  island  to  pay  a  large  sum  for  a 
permit  to  shoot  deer,  and  limiting  the  number  of 
animals  that  could  be  killed.  Prospects  for  the 
caribou  looked  brighter,  and  for  some  years  only 
a  fairly  reasonable  number  were  killed  annually, 
the  limitation  in  the  number  that  could  be  shot 
having  cooled  the  ardor  of  those  whose  chief 
delight  was  in  the  shedding  of  blood  and  piling 


272  The  Caribou 

up  the  bodies  of  the  slain  for  the  scavengers  of 
the  forests,  more  humane  than  the  butchers,  to 
clear  away.  But  a  few  years  ago  progress  in  the 
shape  of  a  railroad  appeared,  and  the  iron  tracks 
crossed  the  island  from  St.  Johns  to  Port  aux 
Basques,  thus  traversing  some  of  the  best  caribou 
grounds.  The  result  was  a  natural  one,  not  only 
could  distant  localities  be  easily  reached,  but 
hunters  of  high  and  low  degree  every  year 
scatter  themselves  in  the  vicinity  of  the  track 
across  the  island,  and  any  luckless  deer  that  at- 
tempts to  pass  the  line  encounters  a  fusillade  of 
bullets  from  hidden  riflemen.  What  chance  have 
the  deer  under  such  circumstances  to  escape  death? 
Only  one,  and  that  doubtless  will  occur  to  them 
before  they  are  exterminated :  restrict  their  south- 
ern migration  to  above  the  danger  line,  and  find 
peace  and  safety  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  north. 
In  their  northward  migrations  in  the  Arctic 
regions  the  Woodland  caribou  often  travel  in 
immense  herds,  equalling  in  former  times  at  least 
those  witnessed  to-day  of  the  Barren-Ground  cari- 
bou in  certain  parts  of  its  dispersion.  Over  the 
eastern  side  of  the  continent  they  pass  north  in 
May  and  return  again  in  July,  and  from  November 
to  April,  it  is  stated,  they  are  rarely  to  be  found 
within  ninety  or  one  hundred  miles  of  the  coast. 
They  are  easily  killed  when  on  these  journeys, 
and  Richardson  states  that  eighty  carcasses  were 


1 


The  Caribou  273 

brought  into  York  Factory  in  one  day  and  many 
others  were  refused  because  they  had  no  salt  to 
preserve  them,  but  the  Indians  kept  on  slaying  the 
animals  for  the  skins  long  after  they  had  ceased 
to  care  for  the  flesh.  And  this  was  in  the  days  of 
bows  and  arrows  and  spears,  before  the  advent  of 
the  magazine  gun  and  long-range  rifle.  Weights 
of  individuals  of  the  deer  tribe,  unless  the  animal 
is  placed  upon  the  scales,  are  at  best  but  guesses, 
and  in  the  absence  of  any  authenticated  figures 
it  may  be  said  that  a  bull  Woodland  caribou  from 
the  Canadian  forests  in  prime  condition  may  weigh 
as  much  as  five  hundred  pounds,  but  of  course 
the  average  weight  will  be  much  less,  and  probably 
nearer  three  hundred  to  three  hundred  and  fifty. 

The  Barren-Ground  caribou  is  a  smaller  ani- 
mal than  the  Woodland,  and  the  horns,  although 
perhaps  of  an  equal  spread  in  the  majority  of 
instances,  are  lighter  and  more  slender  in  beam 
and  tines,  and  with  less  palmation  and  fewer 
points.  This  deer  is  a  plain-dweller,  and  roams 
over  the  vast  tundras  of  the  desolate  Arctic 
regions,  its  southern  boundary  line  trending  more 
to  the  north  as  its  range  is  extended  to  the  west 
even  to  the  Coppermine  and  Mackenzie  rivers, 
and  the  northern  limit  of  the  Woodland  caribou 
is  also  pushed  farther  into  the  Arctic  regions, 
until  the  ranges  of  the  two  forms  overlap  and  the 
animals  must  mingle  together.     The  winters  are 


274  The  Caribou 

passed,  according  to  Richardson,  in  the  woods 
between  the  sixty-third  and  sixty-sixth  degree  of 
latitude,  where  they  subsist  on  lichens,  moss,  and 
the  long  grass  of  the  swamps.  In  summer  the 
herds  migrate  northward,  the  females  leaving  the 
woods  or  their  vicinity,  where  they  have  passed 
the  winter,  in  May,1  and  are  followed  by  the  bulls 
in  June,  reaching  the  vicinity  of  the  Arctic  Sea 
late  in  May  or  early  in  June,  and  the  thick  winter 
coat  is  shed  in  July,  and  the  dark  brown  one 
of  summer  is  assumed.  The  hair  is  at  first 
flexible  and  soft,  but  becomes  brittle  as  it  grows 
in  length.  This,  however,  can  be  said  of  the 
hair  of  all  caribou,  for  there  is  little  or  no  differ- 
ence in  the  texture  of  their  coats.  The  hair 
near  the  roots  is  white,  and  as  it  increases  in  size, 
both  in  length  and  circumference,  the  colored 
points  are  broken  or  worn  away  and  the  lighter 
color  becomes  the  dominant  one  over  the  body 
of  the  animal.  In  spring  the  Barren-Ground 
caribou  seeks  the  coasts  of  the  Arctic  Ocean 
and  visits  its  many  islands,  finding  ample  pas- 
ture in  the  valleys  and  moist  places,  where  the 
withered  grass  of  the  previous  year  is  still  stand- 
ing in  the  form  of  well-aired  hay.  The  animals 
remain  near  the  salt  water  until  about  Septem- 

1  In  all  that  section  of  the  Barren  Grounds  immediately  east  of 
the  Mackenzie  River  the  females  leave  the  timber  about  March,  the 
bulls  following  in  April.  —  Editor. 


The  Caribou  275 

ber,1  when  the  return  journey  to  the  wooded 
country  in  the  south  is  commenced,  and  their 
winter  quarters  are  reached  in  October.  The 
bulls  go  deep  into  the  forests,  but  the  females 
remain  near  its  edges,  and  leave  before  the  bulls 
on  the  spring  journey,  very  early  in  the  year,  to 
give  birth  to  their  young  near  the  sea.  During 
the  summer  the  Barren-Ground  caribou  assemble 
in  enormous  herds,  sometimes  of  many  thousands, 
and  it  has  taken  more  than  one  day  for  such  a 
herd  to  pass  any  particular  place.  In  certain 
portions  of  the  Barren  Grounds  they  resort  to  the 
vicinity  of  lakes  and  feed  on  tender  grasses  and 
various  lichens.  They  are  stupid  creatures,  easily 
demoralized,  and  when  panic-stricken  run  aim- 
lessly about,  while  the  hunter  in  their  midst  is 
busy  slaying  them.  Four  and  five  hundred  have 
been  killed  at  one  time  by  a  band  of  Indians,  so 
easily  are  they  rendered  helpless  by  fear.  In  their 
migrations  these  caribou  do  not  always  follow  the 
same  route  yearly,  but  vary  it  to  the  east  or  west 
as  fancy  or  stress  of  circumstances  may  cause 
them  to  change;  and  because  the  animals  were 
plenty  in  certain  places  one  year,  is  no  reason  to 
expect  them  to  be  there  the  next,  for  it  frequently 
happens  that  where  thousands  passed  during  one 

1  The  bulls  do  not  go  down  to  the  water,  but  meet  the  cows  on  their 
return  from  the  coast,  and,  so  far  as  my  observation  goes,  the  herds  stay 
for  the  greater  part  somewhat  back  from  the  actual  coast.  —  Editor. 


276  The  Caribou 

season,  not  one  may  be  found  in  the  same  district 
the  next.  In  winter  their  food  consists  of  lichens 
and  moss,  which  they  obtain  by  scraping  away  the 
snow  with  the  hoof.  In  the  autumn,  especially  at 
the  end  of  the  rutting  season,  caribou  are  thin  and 
in  poor  condition,  and  they  do  not  become  really 
fat  until  the  following  summer.  The  greatest 
amount  of  fat  is  found  on  the  back  and  rump, 
and  is  sometimes  two  or  three  inches  in  depth. 
This  is  called  by  the  white  hunters1  "  depouille," 
and  is  highly  prized  and  an  article  of  trade. 
The  females  lose  this  deposit  soon  after  giv- 
ing birth  to  their  young.  The  flesh  of  this  deer 
is  tender,  and  of  fine  flavor  when  the  animal  is 
in  good  condition  and  not  eaten  too  soon  after 
killing.  But  the  flesh  of  a  thin  caribou  has 
about  as  much  flavor  as  a  chip,  and  equally 
as  tender.  The  Indians  and  Eskimo  depend 
greatly  upon  the  deer  for  their  subsistence,  and 
every  part  of  the  animal  is  utilized  in  some  way. 
The  flesh,  of  course,  is  eaten,  the  stomach  and 
intestines  also ;  even  the  points  of  the  antlers, 
when  in  the  soft  condition,  are  considered  a 
delicacy.  The  leg  bones  are  broken  for  the 
marrow  they  contain,  which  is  eaten  raw,  if 
wood  for  a  fire  is  not  available,  and  the  blood 
is  mixed  with  meat  and  forms  a  rich  soup.     In 

1  This  is  a  relic  of  the  old-time  voyageur  and  French-Canadian 
hunter.  —  Editor. 


The  Caribou  277 

fact,  no  part  of  the  animal's  body  that  can  be 
masticated  is  rejected,  even  the  lichens  and 
such  vegetable  matters  as  are  found  in  the 
stomach  being  also  eaten.  The  skin  with  the 
hair  on  is  used  for  clothing,  and  no  garment  so 
successfully  resists  the  Arctic  cold  as  this,  it  is 
so  light,  and  so  impervious  to  the  wind,  which 
always  blows  a  gale  on  the  Barren  Grounds. 
When  dressed  it  becomes  very  soft  and  pliable, 
and  when  a  number  of  hides  are  sewn  together 
they  make  an  excellent  tent  for  summer,  large 
enough  for  a  numerous  family.  Cut  into  thongs 
of  various  sizes,  it  makes  very  strong  bowstrings, 
wherever  those  ancient  weapons  of  the  chase 
are  still  used,  and  lines  for  nets  and  cords  for 
deer  snares ;  when  cut  into  strings  it  is  called 
babiche  and  is  used  for  shoe-lacing;  in  fact,  it 
is  utilized  for  the  many  purposes  that  civilized 
peoples  employ  ropes  and  cords.  A  split  shin 
bone  makes  a  good  knife,  and  fish-hooks  and 
spears  are  made  from  the  horns,  while  the  ten- 
dons of  certain  muscles  make  very  fine  and 
strong  thread  for  sewing  with  the  bone  needle. 
When  travelling  during  the  summer,  caribou 
go  in  great  herds,  and  the  Indians  lie  in  wait  for 
them  and  kill  many  when  the  animals  attempt  to 
cross  rivers  or  lakes.  Many  are  also  taken  in 
traps  or  pounds,  into  which  the  unsuspecting  deer 
walk  through  a  narrow  entrance,  which  is  then 


278  The  Caribou 

closed,  and  the  animals  are  killed  usually  by  shoot- 
ing them  from  the  outside  through  the  branches 
of  the  trees  that  form  their  prison.  Stabbing  the 
animals  when  feeding  on  rocky  ground  is  also 
resorted  to,  and  the  Eskimo  are  such  adepts  at 
this  method  of  hunting  that  they  frequently 
get  within  a  few  paces  of  the  game  before 
shooting.  Caribou  are  afflicted  with  great  curi- 
osity, and  will  approach  closely  any  object  that 
is  new  or  strange,  provided  it  is  motionless ;  and 
of  this  weakness  the  Eskimo  takes  advantage. 
Having  placed  himself  behind  a  rock  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  some  deer  that  are  feeding,  he  imitates 
their  hoarse  bellow  to  attract  their  attention ; 
and  in  a  short  time  some  of  them  will  certainly 
draw  near  to  investigate  the  quiet  figure  from 
near  which  the  sound  proceeds,  circling  round 
and  round  and  gradually  drawing  near  until  one 
or  more  usually  pay  for  their  weakness  with  their 
lives.  Probably  no  animal  is  so  easily  approached 
as  are  these  Barren-Ground  caribou  in  the  sum- 
mer time,  and  enormous  numbers  are  slain  every 
year,  so  many,  indeed,  that  it  would  seem  the 
race  must  become  extinct  in  a  comparatively 
brief  period.  In  their  dispositions  they  are  not 
unlike  sheep  in  some  particulars,  especially  in 
following  a  leader;  and  sometimes  a  herd  will 
run  the  gantlet  of  a  line  of  hunters  simply 
because   one  stupid    animal  had  gone  that  way 


Tbe  Caribou  279 

and  the  rest  are  determined  to  follow  the  lead 
set  them.  So  many  caribou  have  been  slaugh- 
tered on  the  barrens  and  tundras  of  the  Arctic 
regions,  both  east  and  west  of  the  mountains, 
that  in  certain  districts  their  numbers  have 
been  greatly  reduced,  and  in  some  the  animals 
have  disappeared  altogether.  In  Alaska  not 
many  years  ago  caribou  were  plentiful  down  to 
the  shores  of  Bering  Sea,  but  now  one  must 
travel  in  many  places  something  like  a  hundred 
miles  inland  before  finding  them  in  any  number. 
On  the  Kenai  Peninsula  and  surrounding  dis- 
tricts head  hunters,  both  white  and  red,  have 
nearly  exterminated  the  species,  and  the  in- 
creased means  of  transportation  to  and  through 
their  country,  the  large  number  of  hunters,  added 
greatly  to  annually,  and  the  improved  firearms, 
would  seem  to  foretell  the  extinction  in  a  brief 
period  of  this  fine  animal  in  the  regions  where 
he  is  accessible. 

Caribou,  like  all  deer,  shed  their  horns  every 
year,  the  time  when  this  takes  place  varying 
apparently  slightly  according  to  locality;  but  be- 
tween the  beginning  of  December  and  the  middle 
of  January,  with  possibly  very  few  exceptions,  all 
horns  of  bulls  have  been  dropped,  the  exceptions 
being  some  young  bulls,  that  carry  their  horns 
until  spring.  The  old  bulls  shed  first  and  then 
the   young    males,   the   females    often    retaining 


280  The  Caribou 

theirs  until  their  young  are  born.  While  very 
much  smaller  than  those  of  the  males,  the  female 
antlers  are  a  very  efficient  means  of  defence,  for, 
being  composed  of  short  beams  armed  with  sharp 
spikes,  they  form  a  very  dangerous  weapon  when 
wielded  by  an  enraged  animal  as  powerful  as  a 
caribou  in  her  own  defence  or  that  of  her  young. 
During  growth  they  are  covered  with  a  furry, 
velvety  skin,  which  is  full  of  blood-vessels,  tender 
and  very  sensitive,  and  which  bleeds  profusely  if 
lacerated.  The  beam  has  various  degrees  of 
curvature,  and  the  tines  are  of  all  shapes  and 
sizes  and  modes  of  palmation. 

The  members  of  the  two  great  divisions,  the 
Woodland  and  Barren-Ground,  resemble  each 
other  closely  in  their  habits,  varying  only  as  the 
different  configuration  of  their  districts  causes 
them  to  adopt  a  slightly  changed  mode  of  life.  In 
essential  particulars  they  exhibit  but  few  varia- 
tions from  each  other,  the  larger  number  of  which 
have  been  mentioned  and  some  considerably  en- 
larged upon,  and  there  are  not  many  distinct 
characters  possessed  by  either.  Still,  in  parlance 
of  the  day,  these  dwellers  of  the  woods  and  plains 
represent  different  species,  how  many  is  a  matter 
that  cannot  be  said  to  be  as  yet  satisfactorily  de- 
termined. East  of  the  mountains,  on  the  cheer- 
less plains  of  Arctic  America  and  in  the  great 
island  of  Greenland,  two  species  are  recognized, 


D 

- 

00 

n 

2 

o 

W 

2 

UJ 

*" ' 

CL 

< 

< 

2 

ai 

G 

1 

The  Caribou 


281 


Rangifer  arcticus  and  Rangifer  green landicus. 
These  races  are  lighter  in  color  than  the  Wood- 
land caribou  and  rarely  assume  the  dark-blue 
coat  worn  by  the  latter  in  the  autumn  before  the 
white  of  winter  appears.  But  this  question  of 
color  cannot  be  accepted  in  any  way  as  a  main 
factor  for  determining  the  specific  or  even  racial 
value  of  these  animals,  for  it  not  infrequently  hap- 
pens that  those  caribou  that  have  been  killed  in 
the  same  locality  and  at  the  same  season  present 
in  their  different  coats  all  shades  from  an  almost 
soiled  white  to  a  mouse  color.  As  a  rule,  I  think 
it  may  be  said  that  the  Woodland  animal  is  usually 
darker  than  his  relative  of  the  plains,  but  it  would 
be  difficult  to  distinguish  one  Woodland  caribou 
from  another,  taken  at  the  same  season,  by  color 
alone,  no  matter  from  what  part  of  North  America 
they  come.  The  two  animals  above  mentioned 
are  smaller  than  the  Woodland  caribou,  and  it 
is  much  easier  to  distinguish  these  from  their 
southern  relatives  than  it  is  to  find  characters  to 
separate  them  from  each  other.  Both  of  the 
Arctic  forms  have  slender  antlers  with  few  points, 
and  there  does  not  seem  to  be  much  difference 
in  the  color  of  their  coats ;  and  while  these 
animals  from  the  different  localities  have  been 
recognized  as  distinct  for  a  long  period,  yet  it 
can  hardly  be  said  that  any  character  has  been 
described    by   which    the  deer  of   the    mainland 


282  The  Caribou 

could  definitely  be  distinguished  from  those  of 
Greenland.  The  figures  here  given  of  the  two 
forms  show  how  the  antlers  vary  both  between 
individuals  of  the  same  species  and  of  the  two 
species  themselves,  and  the  one  is  no  greater 
than  the  other.  It  is  not  improbable  they  cross 
from  the  island  to  the  mainland  on  the  ice, 
and  vice  versa,  and  a  Greenland  animal  shot 
among  a  herd  of  the  Barren-Ground  deer  would 
probably  never  exhibit  any  signs  of  his  nativity 
nor  be  considered  as  differing  from  the  caribou 
among  which  he  was  killed ;  and  the  same  may  be 
said  of  a  mainland  deer  procured  in  Greenland. 
Island  forms  that  have  become  separated  and 
have  no  access  to  a  continent  as  a  rule  will  in 
time  develop  characters  that  distinguish  them 
from  their  mainland  ancestors;  but  when  com- 
munication has  not  been  entirely  cut  off,  the 
question  naturally  arises  as  to  whether  or  not  a 
mingling  of  the  two  forms  has  not  been  continued, 
even  though  at  irregular  intervals,  and  a  produc- 
tion of  a  distinct  variety  been  delayed  if  not  pre- 
vented. In  the  present  case  more  material  is 
needed  of  both  species  before  any  definite  opinion 
can  be  formed.  At  present  they  are  difficult  to 
distinguish  from  each  other  by  any  of  the  char- 
acters thus  far  produced. 

It  may  be  well  here,  before  proceeding  to  the 
Woodland  caribou,  to  consider  for  a  moment  the 


The  Caribou  283 

reindeer  of  Scandinavia,  which  is  the  typical  form 
of  these  animals  and  characterized  by  Linnaeus  as 
Rangifer  tarandus.  It  is  nearest  allied  to  the 
Barren-Ground  caribou  of  all  the  forms  found  on 
the  North  American  continent,  but  is  a  larger, 
stouter  animal  and  will  weigh  from  two  hundred 
and  fifty  to  three  hundred  and  twenty  pounds. 
In  the  style  of  the  antlers  there  is  a  great  resem- 
blance to  those  of  the  Barren-Ground  caribou,  but 
they  are  heavier.  It  extends  its  range  into  Russia, 
but  in  certain  parts  of  Asia  it  appears  to  be  re- 
placed by  a  larger  form  that  in  Siberia  approaches 
in  size  and  appearance  our  Woodland  caribou. 

The  reindeer  is  regarded  as  distinct  from  the 
North  American  forms  and  stands  as  the  type 
of  the  genus.  In  the  island  of  Spitzbergen  there 
is  yet  another  form  of  reindeer  that  seems  to 
have  more  claims  to  be  regarded  as  a  distinct 
species  than  have  the  great  majority  of  its  kindred. 
While  the  antlers  approximate  the  Scandinavian 
type,  they  are  smaller  and  with  a  shorter  beam. 
But  the  chief  characteristic  is  the  shape  of  the 
nasal  bones,  which  are  expanded  at  both  extremi- 
ties and  greatly  constricted  in  the  middle,  and 
there  is  also  a  difference  in  the  superior  border, 
thus  varying  greatly  in  shape  from  the  nasals  of 
the  Scandinavian  deer,  which  increase  regularly 
in  width  from  the  anterior  end  to  the  maximum 
diameter  of  the  lachrymal  vacuities. 


284  The  Caribou 

Farther  south  we  reach  the  Woodland  caribou, 
represented  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  by  also 
two  forms,  known  as  R.  caribou  and  R.  terrce 
novce,  the  latter's  claim  for  separation  resting 
chiefly  upon  the  greater  size  of  the  body  and 
antlers,  more  particularly  the  latter.  All  deer 
vary  so  greatly  in  size,  even  among  individuals  of 
the  same  species,  that  it  would  be  advisable  to 
have  data  gathered  from  a  large  number  of  individ- 
uals before  it  could  be  determined  that  the  size 
of  either  closely  allied  species  was  the  greater,  and 
that  has  not  yet  been  produced  to  prove  that  the 
Newfoundland  deer  is  larger  than  that  of  the 
continent.  The  antlers  on  the  average  appear 
heavier  than  those  seen  on  the  mainland,  yet  in 
many  ways  they  closely  resemble  each  other,  and 
antlers  are  not  infrequently  obtained  from  eastern 
North  America  as  heavy  and  wide-spread,  and 
provided  with  as  many  points,  as  those  procured 
in  Newfoundland ;  and  it  is  doubtful  if  any  one 
could  accurately  state  to  which  form  they  should 
be  attributed.  The  final  status  of  these  animals 
can  only  be  determined  by  the  acquisition  of  ample 
material  of  both  forms,  which  up  to  this  time  has 
not  yet  been  obtained.  The  large  antlers  of  the 
Newfoundland  caribou  here  figured  belong  to  the 
type  specimen,  and  are  of  a  rather  unusual  size. 

No  other  species  are  to  be  met  with  until  the 
Rocky  Mountains   are    passed,   and   then   three 


The  Caribou  285 

have  been  described,  R.  montanus  from  British 
Columbia,  R.  stonei  from  the  Kenai  Peninsula, 
Alaska,  and  R.  dawsoni  from  the  Queen  Charlotte 
Islands.  Taking  the  last-named  first,  it  has  been 
pretty  conclusively  proved  by  Mr.  Osgood  that 
no  caribou  are  found  on  the  Queen  Charlotte 
Islands,  and  none  have  ever  been  known  to 
live  there  in  the  memory  of  man.  Its  habitat 
must  therefore  have  been  given  erroneously,  and 
the  specimen  came  undoubtedly  from  the  main- 
land and  is  not  specifically  distinct  from  R.  mon- 
tanus. R.  stonei,  from  the  Kenai  Peninsula  pos- 
sesses no  characters  not  found  in  R.  montanus, 
and  cannot  be  separated  from  it.1  This  reduces 
the  western  forms  to  one  only,  R.  montanus, 
claimed  to  be  specifically  separable  from  the 
R.  caribou  of  the  East,  the  chief  points  of  differ- 
ence being  its  large  size ;  but  the  measurements 
given  —  46 J  inches  at  the  withers,  and  95  inches 

1  The  question  of  species  among  caribou  is  one  under  very  active  dis- 
cussion, and  there  appear  to  be  no  sufficient  data  at  hand  to  warrant  defi- 
nite conclusions.  Mr.  A.  J.  Stone,  who  has  had  more  practical  experience 
in  the  field  among  caribou  than  any  of  the  present  students  of  the  animal, 
has  recently  (March,  1902)  returned  from  Alaska  and  British  Columbia, 
bringing  specimens  which  tend  to  show  a  new  mountain  specimen  from 
that  Mr.  Thompson  Seton  described  as  the  R.  montanus.  Mr.  Stone  also 
brought  out  half  a  dozen  specimens  each  of  what  he  claims  to  be  entirely 
new  species  and  that  have  been  named  respectively  R.  granti  and  R.  os- 
borni.  In  each  case  he  has  secured  enough  specimens  of  each  to  show  a 
consistent  adherence  to  type.  To  be  sure,  all  these  are  mere  variations, — 
in  most  cases  but  slight,  — yet  they  appear  to  be  distinct.  The  full  story 
of  the  caribou  may  not  be  written  for  a  year  or  so  yet.  —  Editor. 


286  The  Caribou 

from  tip  of  nose  to  root  of  tail  —  do  not  ex- 
ceed and  in  some  instances  may  not  equal  the 
dimensions  of  Woodland  caribou  from  the  East. 
The  describer,  Mr.  Thompson  Seton,  states  that 
the  "  antlers  are  not  noticeably  different  from 
those  of  the  Woodland  species,  but  in  general  are 
distinguished  by  their  great  number  of  points." 

It  will  be  noticed  that  the  differences  from 
other  forms  claimed  for  this  one  are  of  the 
slightest  value,  and  it  would  seem  that  it  will  be 
necessary  to  find  more  important  ones  before  it 
can  be  satisfactorily  established  as  a  species  dis- 
tinct from  the  eastern  animal.  When  we  con- 
sider the  endless  variation  that  exists  among 
caribou,  both  in  color  and  in  the  shape  and  size 
of  the  antlers,  even  among  animals  belonging  in 
the  same  herd,  the  difficulty  of  finding  a  recog- 
nizable permanent  character  to  separate  those  of 
one  district  from  those  of  another  becomes  ap- 
parent; and  it  cannot  be  said  that  this  has  yet 
been  successfully  accomplished,  at  least  as  regards 
the  animals  belonging  to  the  two  divisions,  Wood- 
land and  Barren-Ground.  Between  the  deer  of 
the  Arctic  regions,  including  Greenland  and  those 
of  the  forest  lands  to  the  south,  distinctions  appear 
recognizable  in  the  lighter  beam  and  fewer  points 
of  the  antlers,  and  possibly  in  the  smaller  size  of 
the  northern  animal,  which  is  claimed  to  be  very 
noticeable ;  indeed,  Richardson  states  that  he  has 


The  Caribou  287 

"seen  a  Canadian  voyageur  throw  a  full-grown 
doe  on  his  shoulder  and  carry  it  as  an  English 
butcher  would  a  sheep,"  and  that  the  bucks 
weigh,  "  when  in  good  condition,  from  ninety  to 
one  hundred  and  thirty  pounds,"  and  the  average 
weight  of  ninety-four  deer  shot  by  Capt.  M'Clin- 
tock's  men  in  the  Arctic  regions,  after  they  had 
been  cleaned  and  dressed  for  the  table,  was  only 
sixty  pounds.  This  statement  and  the  weight 
given  certainly  describe  a  very  small  deer,  which, 
if  of  average  size,  would  alone  indicate  an  animal 
different  from  the  Woodland  species.  As  to 
the  other  forms,  the  Greenland  as  distinct  from 
the  Barren-Ground  species,  the  Newfoundland,  the 
eastern  mainland  animal,  and  the  one  from  the 
western  portion  of  the  continent,  as  separable 
from  each  other,  our  material  at  present  is  not 
sufficient  for  a  definite  decision  to  be  reached, 
for  much  has  yet  to  be  learned  regarding  the 
variations  of  these  animals,  both  seasonal  and 
individual.  As  far  as  one  is  able  to  judge  by 
the  knowledge  we  have  at  present,  it  does  not 
seem  probable  that  any  more  tenable  species  than 
the  three  Woodland  and  two  Barren-Ground  of 
this  paper  will  be  recognized,  with  the  possibility 
of  one  or  more  of  these  being  reduced  to  a  race 
or  the  synoptical  list ;  for  most  of  the  work  done 
with  these  animals  has  been  based  upon  very 
insufficient  material  and  scant  knowledge. 


THE    MOOSE,  WHERE   IT    LIVES  AND 
HOW    IT    LIVES 

By  Andrew  J.  Stone 


THE   MOOSE:  WHERE   IT  LIVES  AND 
HOW    IT   LIVES 

The  moose  is  distinctly  the  most  individual 
character  among  the  deer  family.  It  is  the  giant 
of  the  cervidcB.  It  is  the  hardiest  and  the  most 
capable  of  self-protection.  It  will  be  the  last  of 
the  deer  family  to  become  extinct  in  America, 
unless  perhaps  with  the  single  exception  of  the 
whitetail  deer  in  the  rugged  wilds  of  southeast- 
ern Alaska,  and  in  a  few  favorable  localities  in 
the  states  where  well  protected.  It  roams  more 
of  the  forest  country  of  America  than  any  other 
species  of  the  deer  family.  The  greatest  and  wild- 
est wilderness  in  the  world  is  its  home.  Nearly 
all  of  the  forest  country  of  the  whole  of  North 
America  north  of  the  United  States,  and  a  part 
of  some  of  our  northern  tier  of  states,  is  occupied 
by  it,  and  the  term  "  forest  country  "  is  here  meant 
to  apply  to  all  the  country  upon  which  timber 
grows  —  even  though  ever  so  sparse  and  dwarfed. 
It  is  the  most  cunning  of  all  the  large  animals  of 
North  America,  and  the  most  capable  of  eluding 
its  pursuers. 

291 


292    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

Stories  of  its  wonderful  size,  of  its  magnificent 
spreading  antlers,  of  its  capabilities  of  detecting 
and  escaping  enemies,  of  its  wonderful  strides  in 
running,  and  of  its  mysterious  and  noiseless  move- 
ments, have  long  been  favorites  around  the  camp- 
fire,  at  the  club,  and  around  the  home  fireside. 
The  man  who  has  acquired  so  thorough  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  habits  of  the  moose  as  to  enable  him, 
unaided,  to  seek  the  animal  in  its  native  haunts 
and  by  fair  stalking  bring  it  to  bay,  has  reached 
the  maximum  standard  of  the  American  big-game 
hunter. 

Species  and  Characteristics.  —  There  are  in 
America  two  known  species;  the  Alces  ameri- 
canus  of  Maine  and  Lower  Canada  and  Alces 
gigas  of  the  Kenai  Peninsula,  Alaska.  The  im- 
mense expanse  of  country  between  these  widely 
separated  localities  is  inhabited  by  the  moose,  and 
whether  the  two  species  blend  in  this  intervening 
country,  gradually  losing  their  individuality  or 
specific  character,  or  whether  the  boundaries  of 
the  range  of  each  are  clearly  defined,  or  whether 
there  is  yet  another  species  in  the  great  country 
between  the  two  localities  from  which  these 
types  have  been  described,  is  a  matter  yet  to  be 
determined. 

When  we  consider  the  many  surprises  the 
North  has  furnished  us  within  the  last  few  years 
in  the  way  of  new  forms  in  large  mammals,  we 


MOOSE 


The  Moose  293 

need  not  be  surprised  if  the  great  moose  range 
on  the  head  waters  of  the  Liard,  Peace,  Stickine, 
and  Yukon  should  give  us  the  third  variety.  The 
animals  of  that  country  are  very  large,  are  darker 
than  the  moose  of  Maine  and  Lower  Canada  — 
even  darker  than  those  of  the  Kenai,  yet  their 
antlers  are  not  nearly  so  massive  as  those  grown 
on  the  Kenai  Peninsula.  These  two  facts  were 
obtained  by  personal  observation,  but  I  never 
secured  specimens  sufficiently  perfect  to  permit 
the  establishing  of  their  identity.  There  is  a 
large  area  of  country  farther  north  in  which  I 
am  convinced  the  moose  differ  in  character  from 
those  in  any  part  of  the  country  just  mentioned; 
and  one  may  readily  infer  there  is  yet  much  to 
learn  about  the  moose. 

Just  how  the  moose  from  different  sections  of 
their  ranges  may  vary  in  size  is  yet  a  matter 
largely  of  opinion.  A  more  complete  compila- 
tion of  carefully  made  measurements  from  a 
series  of  adults  from  widely  separated  ranges 
will  be  necessary  to  determine  this,  as  well  as 
other  points  of  great  interest  concerning  this 
animal. 

The  moose  of  the  Kenai  Peninsula  are  reputed 
by  many  to  be  the  largest  in  America,  and  from 
such  measurements  as  it  is  possible  for  me  to 
secure  I  might  accept  that  conclusion.  But  there 
are  so  many  magnificent  ranges  from  which  we 


294    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

have  no  data,  that  we  must  await  definite  knowl- 
edge. In  the  Cassiar  Mountains  and  on  the 
Upper  Liard  River  in  northwest  British  Colum- 
bia, and  again  in  the  country  around  the  head 
waters  of  the  McMillan,  Stewart,  and  Peel  rivers, 
Northwest  Territory,  are  the  two  ideal  moose 
ranges  of  America.  From  neither  have  we  a 
single  specimen  to  give  us  positive  knowledge  of 
the  character  of  the  local  moose.  Nor  has  suffi- 
cient knowledge  been  obtained  to  warrant  a  de- 
scription. 

To  the  north  of  the  Porcupine  and  around  the 
head  waters  of  the  Colville  rivers  in  Alaska  is  yet 
another  large  moose  range  from  which  we  have 
no  real  facts  to  rely  upon.  We  have  in  museum 
collections  a  few  specimens  from  southern  Can- 
ada and  Maine  and  again  from  the  Kenai  Penin- 
sula in  western  Alaska,  and  these  persuade  us  that 
the  animals  of  the  Kenai  are  not  only  larger  than 
those  in  Canada  and  Maine,  but  they  grow  a  much 
larger  head  of  antlers.  The  table  of  measurements 
on  the  opposite  page  clearly  shows  the  compara- 
tive size  of  adult  males. 

There  is  no  other  wild  animal  in  America  that 
grows  so  rapidly  as  the  moose.  The  calves  are 
small  when  very  young,  but  they  grow  with 
almost  startling  rapidity.  A  calf  secured  by  me 
on  the  Liard  River,  in  the  latter  part  of  May,  and 
not  more  than  one  week  old,  measured :  length, 


The  Moose 


295 


37  inches,  tail,  1  \  inches,  femur  to  humerus,  2c4 
inches,  across  chest,  4!  inches,  height  at  shoulders, 
33  inches,  depth  of  body,  9J  inches,  height  at 
elbow,  21  inches.  One  secured  by  me  on  the 
Kenai  Peninsula,  October  30,  evidently  just  about 
five  months  old,  measured :  length,  88  inches,  tail, 


A 

u 

e 

'3 

H 

3 

3 

H 

f  3 

a  v 

V  3 

V 

.£   . 

< 

•2-8 

£  i 

—  — 

■si 

0    . 

Three  -  year  -  old   female, 

Three  -  year  -  old       male, 
Mackenzie  River    .  .  . 

Adult  male,  Kenai  Penin- 
sula    

Inches 

93 
99* 
106 

»°3* 

108 
98 

Inches 
4 
4 
5 
5 
5 

Inches 
29 
31* 
33j 

33* 
33 

Inches 

53 

55 

57* 

58 

54 
48 

Inches 

i3i 
«7 
'5* 
16 

Inches 
68 
66 
77* 
76* 

77 
69 

Inches 
38 
41 
42 

41 

40 

Inches 
29 

25 

35* 

25* 

37 
32 

Adult  male,  Kenai  Penin- 
sula   

Adult  male,  Kenai  Penin- 

Adult  male,  Maine  .... 

4  inches,  femur  to  humerus,  54  inches,  across 
chest,  1 1  inches,  height  at  shoulders,  67}  inches, 
height  at  elbow,  40  inches.  It  had  grown  in 
five  months  41  inches  in  length,  34^  inches  in 
height,  6 J  inches  in  width  of  chest,  and  19  inches 
in  length  of  foreleg  below  the  elbow.  A  carefully 
estimated  weight  of  the  five-months-old  calf  as 
it  stood  alive  was  fully  600  pounds;  the  one  a 
week  old  about  65  pounds.  Comparative  meas- 
urements prove,  however,  that  the  first  season  ex- 
periences the  most  rapid  growth.   Comparing  these 


296    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

measurements  of  the  calves  with  that  of  the  three- 
year-old  bull  and  again  with  the  adults,  it  is  plain 
the  animal  does  not  grow  so  fast  after  it  leaves 
its  mother,  and  that  the  rapidity  of  growth  is  de- 
creased as  it  nears  maturity.  This  would  vary 
with  different  animals,  and  there  are  individual 
animals  which  attain  a  size  perhaps  much  greater 
than  that  of  their  neighbors,  but  my  experience 
teaches  me  that  adult  animals  of  any  given  species 
are  very  uniform  in  size,  much  more  than  they 
really  look  to  be.  The  tape  line  in  the  hands  of 
one  who  knows  how  to  use  it  reduces  the  size  of 
what  seems  to  be  an  especially  large  individual 
to  a  place  very  near  that  of  its  relatives.  The 
above  table  shows  how  very  uniform  are  the  three 
adult  males  from  the  Kenai  Peninsula.  It  is  the 
result  I  have  also  found  in  many  other  species. 
The  general  contour  of  the  surface  anatomy  of 
animals  varies  so  exceedingly  as  to  influence  their 
appearance  and  often  greatly  deceive  one  concern- 
ing the  animal's  real  size.  I  have  looked  at  ani- 
mals and  remarked  before  measuring  that  they 
were  very  large  or  very  small,  only  to  find  their 
actual  size,  when  the  tape  line  was  applied,  to 
vary  very  slightly  from  the  uniform  size  of  adults 
of  the  species.  One  who  did  not  understand 
measuring  animals  might  have  made  any  of  the 
above  adult  moose  twelve  inches  taller,  and  have 
really  thought  he  was  making  an  honest  measure- 


The  Moose  297 

merit ;  but  a  large  bull  moose  is  a  heavy  animal, 
and  does  not  stand  on  stretched  legs  or  on  the 
tips  of  his  long  toes;  so,  too,  the  top  of  his  shoul- 
ders is  at  the  surface  of  the  skin  and  not  at  the 
end  of  his  long  mane. 

I  have  collected  many  interesting  statistics 
during  my  travels  through  the  great  country 
of  the  moose,  bearing  upon  their  size,  weight, 
measurements  of  hoofs,  joints,  and  many  parts 
of  the  animal's  anatomy.  The  weight  of  the 
four  quarters  of  adult  moose  as  they  are  sledded 
in  to  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  posts  in  winter, 
when  they  are  generally  poor,  ranges  from 
350  to  500  pounds.  This  would  refer  to  females 
as  well  as  to  males.  I  have  taken  from  adult 
males  very  poor  hams  which  weighed  as  high  as 
1 10  pounds,  and  I  know  of  a  fat  bull  killed  near 
Fort  Norman  on  the  Mackenzie  whose  four 
quarters  weighed  700  pounds. 

When  on  the  Liard  River  in  the  winter  of 
1 897-1 898,  an  Indian  brought  in  a  skin  from  a  bull 
moose,  just  as  he  would  take  it,  minus  the  skin 
from  head  and  legs.  It  weighed  90J  pounds, 
after  fleshing,  72  pounds,  after  hair  was  removed, 
51^  pounds,  made  into  rawhide,  9^-  pounds,  into 
dressed  skin,  5-J  pounds.  This  was  not  a  large 
pelt.  Many  of  the  hides  complete  as  the  natural- 
ists will  take  them,  weigh,  when  green,  close  to 
150  pounds. 


298    Deer  and  Antebpe  of  North  America 

From  careful  observation,  I  believe  the  moose 
to  reach  maturity  at  about  six  years  of  age.  To 
just  what  age  it  may  live  must  be  conjecture, 
but  approximately  I  would  judge  from  what  I 
have  been  able  to  learn  that  the  maximum  period 
is  not  far  from  twenty  years.  Old  animals  are 
easily  distinguished  by  their  worn  and  broken 
teeth,  and  by  the  gray  hairs  around  the  nose  and 
at  the  edge  of  the  hoofs. 

The  color  of  the  moose  changes  from  an  ashy 
brown  to  almost  black,  varying  among  animals 
of  different  ages  and  with  the  seasons  of  the 
year,  and  with  different  localities.  The  moose 
of  Maine  and  Lower  Canada  are  much  lighter  in 
the  color  of  the  body  than  those  farther  to  the 
north  and  west,  and  their  legs  are  almost  white, 
while  those  on  the  Liard  River  and  the  Kenai 
Peninsula  have  quite  dark  hair  on  their  legs. 
The  hair  is  very  coarse,  and  in  the  winter  is  very 
thick  and  long,  while  for  additional  warmth  is 
grown  a  light  coating  of  soft  wool-like  hair  or 
fur  of  a  medium  shade  of  brown.  I  made  what 
I  consider  a  rather  remarkable  discovery  in  speci- 
mens killed  by  me  on  the  Kenai  Peninsula. 
Between  the  toes  of  these  animals  grew  a  bunch 
of  hair  of  a  perfect  emerald  green. 

The  young  calves  are  of  a  light  red  with  dark 
dorsal  stripe.  With  the  coming  of  the  fall  their 
coats  grow  darker  and  the  dorsal  stripe  loses  its 


MOOSE   ANTLERS    FROM    ALASKA 


The  Moose  299 

prominence  through  the  sides  shading  up  to  it. 
The  moose  of  the  Kenai  has  only  very  recently 
been  described  by  Mr.  Gerrit  S.  Miller,  Jr.,  of 
the  Biological  Survey  at  Washington  as  Alces 
gigas.  He  classifies  it  as  being  a  larger  and 
more  richly  colored  animal  than  the  eastern 
moose.  In  his  description  of  "  A  new  moose 
from  Alaska,"  he  says :  "  The  moose  of  Alaska 
has  long  been  known  to  be  the  largest  of  the 
American  deer,  but  hitherto  it  has  not  been 
directly  compared  with  true  Alces  americanus? 
The  color  of  the  Alces  gigas  is  not  so  dark  or 
rich  as  that  of  the  Liard  River  moose,  and  when 
we  obtain  specimens  from  other  parts  of  the 
North,  from  the  centre  of  such  great  ranges  as 
that  of  the  Liard  or  Koyukuk  rivers,  we  will 
likely  find  animals  fully  as  large  as  those  of  the 
Kenai  Peninsula,  but  not  wearing  such  large 
antlers. 

I  am  thoroughly  of  the  belief  that  the  North 
will  produce  a  third  variety  of  moose  (and  fourth 
is  not  impossible) ;  but  only  a  careful  and  intelli- 
gent study  of  these  animals  by  one  trained  to 
the  work,  with  complete  series  of  specimens  and 
full  measurements  and  data,  from  the  ranges 
mentioned,  can  determine  sufficiently  their  rela- 
tive character,  size,  and  habits  ;  and  ultimately 
decide  the  question  of  species. 

More  is  known  of   the   antlers  of  the   moose 


300    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

than  of  all  the  rest  of  its  anatomy.  It  is  not  that 
they  are  really  the  most  important  feature  of  the 
animal,  but  because  few  entire  specimens  have 
ever  been  taken  by  naturalists ;  and  the  interest 
of  the  average  sportsman  centres  in  the  head  of 
antlers.  I  have  seen  a  great  many  heads  from 
Lower  Canada  and  Maine,  the  Liard,  the  Mac- 
kenzie, and  the  Yukon  rivers,  and  the  Kenai 
Peninsula,  and  there  is  no  question  that  the 
antlers  grown  by  the  moose  of  the  Kenai  are  not 
only  very  much  the  largest  in  America  but  of  dis- 
tinctive character.  The  spread  is  greater,  the 
palmation  wider,  and  the  general  contour  very 
different  from  those  observed  from  any  other 
locality. 

Nine  heads  secured  on  the  Kenai,  fall  of  1900, 
ranged  in  spread  from  fifty-six  to  seventy-four 
inches.  The  average  spread  of  the  nine  heads 
was  slightly  above  sixty-five  inches.  A  head 
from  Maine  or  Lower  Canada  above  sixty  inches 
in  spread  is  rare,  and  what  might  be  considered 
ten  good  heads  would  probably  average  in  width 
but  slightly  over  fifty  inches.  The  antlers  lose 
the  velvet  the  last  of  August  and  the  first  of 
September.  Adult  males  shed  their  antlers  the 
latter  part  of  December,  but  young  males  usually 
carry  theirs  from  thirty  to  sixty  days  later,  and  I 
have  heard  of  instances  where  they  were  retained 
until  the  first  of  April,  but  such  cases  must  be 
very  rare. 


The  Moose  301 

The  dewlap  or  bell  worn  by  the  bull  moose  is 
always  very  narrow  in  the  young  animals,  but 
often  quite  long.  I  have  seen  them  almost  a  foot 
in  length.  As  the  animal  grows  older  the  dewlap 
grows  shorter  and  wider,  extending  farther  along 
the  throat,  until  in  old  animals  it  becomes  a  long 
but  very  shallow  pouch. 

Range.  —  The  range  of  the  moose  in  America 
extends  as  far  east  as  New  Brunswick  and  as  far 
west  as  the  limits  of  tree  growth  on  the  Alaskan 
Peninsula,  south  into  Montana  and  Idaho,1  and 
north  to  within  a  few  miles  of  the  Arctic  coast  or 
to  the  limits  of  tree  growth.  Only  a  small  per 
cent  of  all  this  vast  territory  is  entirely  lacking  in 
moose,  though  they  are  very  unevenly  distributed. 

They  do  not  inhabit  that  large  tract  of  land 
known  as  the  Barren  Grounds,  which  lies  between 
the  Mackenzie  River  and  Hudson  Bay;  and  the 
strip  of  country  extending  to  Lake  Superior  east 
of  south  of  the  Barrens  is  almost  or  completely 
lacking  in  moose,  although  the  greater  part  of  it 
would  seem  well  adapted  to  their  requirements. 

The  moose  is  not  a  migratory  animal,  but  fre- 
quently surrenders  territory  on  account  of  the 
encroachments  of  civilization,  and  perhaps  at 
times  from  other  causes ;  but  what  might  seem 
surprising   to  even   the   well-informed   upon   the 

1  A  very  few  are  said  to  still  range  in  the  Wind  River  Mountains, 
Wyoming,  where  once  they  were  fairly  plentiful.  —  Editor. 


302    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

subject  is  that  they  have,  during  the  past  fifty 
years,  acquired  a  large  amount  of  territory  in  the 
North.  I  believe  they  have  acquired  within  our 
present  history  of  them  almost  or  quite  as  much 
territory  as  they  have  lost,  and  that  their  range  is 
almost  or  quite  as  large  at  the  present  day  as  it 
ever  has  been.  They  are  now  numerous  in  a 
very  large  territory  in  northwest  British  Colum- 
bia, through  the  Cassiar  Mountains,  on  Level 
Mountain,  and  throughout  the  head  waters  of  the 
Stickine  River,  where  thirty  years  ago  they  were 
unknown.  They  are  now  abundant  on  the  Kenai 
Peninsula,  Alaska,  and  in  other  sections  of  the 
North  where  at  one  time  they  did  not  exist.  Acqui- 
sition of  territory  by  so  wary  an  animal  as  the 
moose  can  only  be  accounted  for  in  one  way. 
Many  years  ago  the  Indian  tribes  occupying  these 
sections  were  very  numerous  and  inimical  to 
moose  life,  but,  since  the  Indians  have  dwindled 
from  thousands  to  insignificant  numbers,  the 
moose  finds  comparatively  unmolested  life.  This 
I  know  to  be  the  case  on  the  Kenai  and  in  the 
country  referred  to  in  northwest  British  Colum- 
bia ;  and  there  are  many  similar  changes  in  con- 
ditions in  other  parts  of  the  North,  notably  in  the 
Nahanna  River  country,  north  of  the  Liard,  where 
the  entire  tribe  of  Indians  that  once  hunted  the 
country  have  died  out,  to  the  very  great  increase 
of  moose, 


Spread,  67  inches 


Spread,  72  inches 
MOOSE   ANTLERS   FROM    ALASKA 


The  Moose  303 

Moose  are  now  extinct  in  all  the  eastern  states 
except  in  Maine,  where  they  are  more  plentiful 
and  more  hunted  than  in  any  other  section  in 
America.  That  they  continue  plentiful  is  due  to 
the  excellent  game  laws  and  the  fact  that  there  is 
no  avenue  of  escape.  In  Canada  the  situation  is 
different ;  the  moose  have  been  driven  back  north, 
into  an  unlimited  country  of  retreat.  In  Wash- 
ington, Idaho,  Montana,  and  in  some  parts  of 
southern  Canada  moose  are  almost  extinct.  They 
are  found  to  some  extent  in  all  parts  of  the  Mac- 
kenzie and  Yukon  river  basins ;  and  they  are 
most  abundant  in  the  countries  of  the  two 
Nahanna  rivers  which  empty  into  the  Liard 
and  Mackenzie  respectively;  in  the  country  of 
the  Gravel  River,  a  tributary  of  the  Mackenzie ; 
in  the  head  waters  of  the  Stickine  and  Liard 
rivers ;  in  the  region  of  the  Teslin  Lake  and 
north,  just  west  of  the  Rockies  to  the  head  waters 
of  Peel  River;  on  the  Upper  Koyukuk  north  of 
the  Yukon ;  on  the  Tananna  south  of  the  Yukon  ; 
on  the  Kenai  Peninsula;  around  the  head  of 
Cook  Inlet ;  and  they  are  also  plentiful  in  most  of 
the  timbered  regions  west  of  Hudson  Bay. 

They  do  not  approach  the  Pacific  coast  in 
Washington,  British  Columbia,  or  in  southern  or 
southeastern  Alaska,  but  on  the  Kenai  and  Alas- 
kan peninsulas  they  range  down  to  salt  water. 

The  Mackenzie  Delta  was  at  one  time  a  favor- 


304    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

ite  range  of  the  moose,  but  there  they  have  been 
fearfully  reduced  in  numbers.  The  Indians  claim 
that  several  years  of  great  spring  freshets,  which 
overflowed  the  islands  at  the  season  of  the  year 
when  the  calves  are  very  young,  causing  death  in 
the  cold  flood,  was  responsible  for  the  great  re- 
duction in  moose.  Knowing  the  delta  I  believe 
their  theory  correct.  One  Indian  told  me  that 
for  several  years  after  the  floods  had  subsided,  he 
hunted  the  delta  and  killed  many  cow  moose,  but 
they  were  always  without  calves.  I  sledded  the 
length  of  the  delta  three  times  and  boated  it 
once  through  its  entire  length,  and  saw  signs  of 
not  more  than  five  or  six  moose  in  the  six  hun- 
dred miles  of  travel. 

Habits.  —  The  habits  of  the  moose  vary  with 
the  different  sections  of  the  country  in  which 
they  range.  Animals,  like  people,  to  some  extent 
must  conform  to  their  surroundings.  The  habits 
of  the  moose  in  the  far  North  and  West  differ 
from  those  of  southern  Canada  and  Maine  in 
many  ways.  In  the  North  and  West  they  do  not 
yard  up  in  winter,  and  consequently  do  not  live 
much  on  the  bark  of  trees  in  that  season,  they 
do  not  feed  to  any  extent  on  lily  pads;  do  not 
run  so  much  in  the  timber;  and  in  some  sec- 
tions they  range  much  higher  in  the  mountains. 
Bulls  do  not,  in  response  to  the  hunter's  birch- 
bark-horn  call,  in  imitation  of  the  cow,  come  down 


The  Moose  305 

to  the  camp  to  be  killed,  like  their  cousins  in 
Lower  Canada  and  Maine. 

Moose  yard  not  from  preference  but  from  ne- 
cessity. Their  favorite  winter  range  is  in  sparsely 
timbered  countries,  in  the  hills  abounding  in  wil- 
lows and  alders.  In  Lower  Canada  and  in  Maine 
the  snowfall  is  often  very  deep,  and  when  the 
winds  drive  it  drifting  into  the  open  or  partially 
timbered  ridges,  piling  it  deep  among  the  willows 
where  these  animals  like  to  feed,  they  seek  timber 
where  the  snow,  unaffected  by  the  wind,  remains 
at  uniform  level.  Experience  has  taught  them 
where  to  find  food  at  such  times,  and  they  hunt 
the  poplar  or  aspen  groves  and  remain  there 
indefinitely,  living  upon  the  bark  they  gnaw  from 
the  trees.  Contrary  to  general  impression,  the 
snow  does  not  pile  up  so  deeply  in  the  North, 
and  consequently  the  animals  remain  in  their 
favorite  feeding-grounds  in  the  hills  until  the 
snow,  either  from  the  winds  or  the  warmth  of  a 
coming  spring  sun,  takes  on  a  crust  which  will 
bear  the  wolf  —  the  only  enemy  of  moose  beside 
man.  When  the  snow  is  soft  the  wolf  never 
troubles  the  moose,  for  well  it  knows  this  big 
deer  is  more  than  a  match  under  such  conditions ; 
but  when  the  wolf  can  run  on  top  of  the  snow,  the 
moose  is  at  his  mercy ;  a  band  of  them  will  bring 
down  the  most  powerful  bull.  Unlike  the  cari- 
bou the  moose  is  a  heavy  animal  with  small  feet 


306    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

in  proportion  to  its  size,  and  they  can  never  run 
on  top  of  the  snow.  The  wolves  thoroughly 
understand  this,  and  a  band  will  systematically 
plan  an  attack  and  execute  their  plans  with  de- 
liberation. Surrounding  the  moose,  some  will 
attract  its  attention  by  jumping  at  its  head,  while 
others  cut  its  hamstrings.  To  escape  this  dan- 
ger northern  moose  leave  the  hills  in  March  and 
April  and  go  down  into  the  timber  of  the  lowland 
where  the  snow  is  yet  soft.  The  wolf  does  not 
destroy  a  very  large  number  of  moose,  but  when 
driven  to  extreme  hunger  will  devise  many  kinds 
of  methods  for  their  capture,  and,  strange  to  say, 
will  attack  the  largest  bull  as  readily  as  the 
smaller  cow.  I  account  for  this  by  the  fact  that 
as  cows,  calves,  and  young  animals,  with  some- 
times an  adult  bull,  all  run  together,  their  com- 
bined resistance  is  too  much  for  the  wolf,  whereas 
some  of  the  old  bulls  are  frequently  found  alone. 
On  the  Liard  River,  in  the  winter  of  1 897-1 898, 
the  wolves  killed  and  ate  a  very  large  bull  within 
one  mile  of  the  little  fur  trading  post  at  which  I 
lived.  The  snow  at  that  time  was  soft  in  the 
hills,  but  crusted  on  the  river  where  the  winds 
swept  up  and  down.  Realizing  they  could  not 
capture  the  bull  in  the  hills,  they  drove  him 
on  to  the  river.  The  river  was  wide,  and  as  he 
went  plunging  through  the  crust  into  the  deep 
snow  beneath,  they  overtook  and  slaughtered  him 


The  Moose  307 

with  ease.  The  moose  knew  his  situation  per- 
fectly. There  were  wolves  to  his  right,  left,  and 
rear,  but  he  simply  miscalculated  his  ability  to 
gain  the  opposite  side  of  the  river.  Knowing  the 
cunning  of  these  animals,  I  believe  his  object  in 
crossing  the  river  was  to  reach  some  locality  he 
knew,  and  where  he  would  have  a  greater  advan- 
tage over  his  enemies  than  in  the  country  where 
they  first  disturbed  him.  Perhaps  the  snow  was 
not  of  sufficient  depth  in  the  section  he  was  leav- 
ing to  give  him  the  advantage  he  wanted,  and  he 
knew  a  locality  in  which  it  was.  Animals  are  much 
better  reasoners  than  generally  supposed,  and  the 
moose  is  one  of  the  deepest  of  the  animal  king- 
dom. 

During  the  summer  and  autumn  the  moose  of 
Lower  Canada  and  Maine  feed  extensively  on 
pond-lilies  and  other  succulent  plants  which  grow 
in  the  marshy  lakes  and  around  the  water's  edge, 
and  it  is  not  uncommon  for  them  to  shove  their 
heads  completely  under  water  in  search  of  this 
kind  of  food.1  This  character  of  plant  life  is 
much  less  common  in  the  farther  North,  and  the 
moose  do  not  seem  to  feed  upon  it  where  it  does 
occur.      I  saw  pond-lilies  growing  in  the  Dease 

1  The  moose  does  on  occasion,  when  feeding  in  a  lake  or  pond,  go 
completely  under  the  water  and  out  of  sight  after  an  especially  suc- 
culent lily  root.  This  is  disputed  by  some,  but  it  is  a  fact,  none  the 
less.  —  Editor. 


308    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

Lake  country,  in  the  Liard  River  country,  about 
6o°  N.,  to  the  west  of  the  Mackenzie  66.300  N., 
in  the  country  north  of  the  Porcupine  yo°  N.,  and 
on  the  Kenai  Peninsula  6o°  N.  Moose  abound 
in  all  the  localities  mentioned,  yet  although  I 
searched  carefully  for  it,  I  could  find  no  trace  of 
their  feeding  on  the  lilies.  Certain  varieties  of 
willows  are  their  favorite  food,  though  they  feed 
upon  alder,  aspen,  and  sometimes  birch  and  bal- 
sam. They  snap  off  branches,  thick  as  one's 
finger,  as  readily  as  most  ruminants  nip  blades  of 
grass,  and  will  ride  down  a  young  tree  to  secure 
its  tender  top  branches.  Lowlands  along  the 
streams  and  around  the  marshy  lakes  are  their 
favorite  feeding-grounds  in  spring  and  summer, 
but  with  the  approach  of  fall  they  begin  to  work 
their  way  into  the  hills.  High  rolling  country 
which  has  been  run  over  by  fire,  and  followed  by 
one  or  two  seasons'  growth  of  willows,  is  their 
very  choicest  feeding-ground.  The  new  growth 
of  willows  after  a  fire  is  always  exceptionally  lux- 
uriant; the  new  shoots  being  large  and  tender. 
The  short  neck  of  the  moose  unfits  it  for  feeding 
on  the  ground,  and  rarely  are  the  willows  clipped 
below  a  height  of  thirty  inches.  Their  long  heads 
and  great  height  naturally  fit  them  for  such  feed- 
ing, but  they  seem  to  delight  in  doing  so,  and 
will  often  rear  on  their  hind  legs  to  secure  some 
especially  tempting  twig.      I   have   seen  where 


The  Moose  309 

they  have  clipped  branches  fully  ten  feet  above 
the  ground. 

It  is  during  the  mating  season,  September  and 
October,  that  bull  moose  become  most  coura- 
geous and  reckless.  They  are  ready  for  battle, 
and  they  do  battle  in  royal  manner  among  them- 
selves for  the  possession  of  the  cow. 

While  on  the  Kenai,  in  the  fall  of  1900,  I 
heard  three  combats  in  progress  during  my  hunt 
on  the  peninsula.  The  thumping  of  their  antlers 
can  often  be  heard  for  a  mile,  and  to  the  ear  of 
the  trained  hunter  the  sounds  are  unmistakable. 
I  had  left  camp  but  a  couple  of  miles  behind  one 
morning  when  I  heard  the  clashing  of  antlers. 
I  hurried  in  the  direction  of  battle  as  rapidly  as 
possible,  but  was  greatly  retarded  in  my  progress 
by  fallen  timber  and  tangled  brush,  and  although 
the  affray  must  have  kept  up  fully  thirty  minutes, 
I  failed  to  reach  the  scene  in  time  for  the  finish. 
I  found  the  place  where  it  had  occurred,  an  open 
spot  about  fifty  feet  across,  surrounded  by  an 
enormous  growth  of  alders  on  all  sides.  It  was 
just  such  a  secluded  spot  as  men  might  select  for 
duel.  The  earth  was  fearfully  dug  up  by  the 
hoofs  of  the  moose  and  the  surrounding  alders 
broken  down  in  many  places,  while  great  locks  of 
long  brownish  gray  hair  bestrewed  the  ground. 
Both  animals  had  disappeared,  and  although  I  was 
very  near  when  the  battle  ended,  I  heard  no  cry 


jio    Deer  and  Antelope  of  Nortb  America 

of  defeat ;  the  unfortunate,  like  the  brave  spirit 
he  must  have  been,  suffered  his  mental  and  physi- 
cal pains  in  silence. 

Like  all  the  deer  family  at  this  season  of  the 
year,  they  are  very  curious  as  well  as  very  reck- 
less, and  frequently  pay  for  it  with  their  life. 
Although  retaining  a  certain  amount  of  fear  of 
man,  yet  their  proud  spirit  so  dislikes  to  acknowl- 
edge it  at  such  a  time  that  they  will  often  stop  in 
plain  view  of  him  to  exchange  glances  at  short 
range. 

So  great,  too,  is  the  bull's  curiosity  at  this  sea- 
son that  he  will  seek  out  any  unusual  noise.  Just 
here  I  want  to  correct  a  very  general  impression 
that  the  bull  moose  can  be  called  by  the  use  of 
the  birch-bark  horn,  in  the  belief  that  he  is  ap- 
proaching a  female.1  No  bull  was  ever  half  so 
stupid ;  such  a  thing  is  entirely  unreasonable. 
He  is  simply  attracted  by  the  unusual  sound,  and, 
being  exceedingly  curious,  endeavors  to  locate  the 
meaning  of  this  strange  thing  in  his  home.  The 
pounding  on  a  tree  with  a  club  by  the  Tahltan  or 
Kaska  Indians  in  northwest  British  Columbia 
(among  the  best  moose  hunters  in  America)  or 
pounding  the  willows  with  a  dry  shoulder  blade 
of   the  animal,  by  the  Liard  River  Indians,  will 

1  Mr.  Stone's  opinion  on  this  subject  differs  from  that  of  experi- 
enced hunters.  There  is  convincing  evidence  that  the  bull  is  deceived 
into  believing  the  horn  call  to  be  the  call  of  the  cow.  —  Editor. 


The  Moose  311 

serve  exactly  the  same  purpose ;  or  almost  any 
other  unusual  noise  would  bring  the  bull  within 
the  sound  just  as  readily.1  There  is  no  animal  in 
the  world  whose  sense  of  hearing  is  more  acute, 
and  no  hunter  with  any  knowledge  of  the  moose 
will  call  it  stupid ;  yet  hunters  tell  how  their  guide 
brought  up  a  bull  by  imitating  the  call  of  a  cow. 
How  many  of  these  hunters  ever  heard  the  call 
of  a  cow  moose  to  give  them  authority  to  decide 
how  perfectly  the  birch-bark  horn  in  the  hands  of 
their  guide  imitated  the  cow's  call.1 

The  moose  inherits  faculties  for  reasoning  the 
few  simple  things  that  ordinarily  come  to  his  life, 
and  along  with  many  other  animals  is  capable  of 
detecting  the  slightest  variation  in  sound.  Not 
only  do  animals  recognize  the  cry  of  their  own 
kind,  but  the  cry  of  an  individual.  To  know 
animals  requires  something  more  than  careless 
observation.  One  must  study  them  long  and 
earnestly,  and  when  we  do  this  we  can  find  rea- 
sons for  everything  they  do.  I  want  no  better 
comparison  than  I  can  find  in  the  seals.  On  the 
Pribilof  Islands,  during  the  seal  breeding  season, 
one  hundred  thousand  puppies  are  congregated 
at  one  time  and  left  by  their  mothers  who  go  to 
sea  in  search  of  food,  often  being  gone  two  and 

1  This  totally  disagrees  with  abundant  evidence  to  the  contrary. 
—  Editor. 

2  The  cow's  call  is  quite  familiar  to  those  who  have  had  much 
calling  experience  in  the  Maine  woods.  —  Editor. 


312    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

three  days.  The  little  fellows  get  very  hungry 
during  this  absence  and  set  up  a  constant  cry. 
When  a  mother  lands  she  goes  about  among  the 
thousands  hunting  her  own ;  thousands  of  little 
voices  are  constantly  coming  to  her  ears  —  to 
man  they  all  sound  alike,  but  the  seal  mother 
detects  her  own  from  nine  hundred  and  ninety- 
nine  thousand  other  voices ;  yet  some  would  have 
us  believe  that  the  bull  moose  is  so  stupid  as  not 
to  know  the  difference  between  the  call  of  his 
mate  and  the  call  of  a  birch-bark  horn.  I  could 
make  innumerable  comparisons  along  this  same 
line,  but  am  willing  to  allow  the  readers  to  draw 
their  own  conclusions.  I  simply  assert  that  when 
a  moose  approaches  such  a  horn  he  does  so  as  he 
would  almost  any  other  strange  noise,  and  he 
knows  that  he  is  not  approaching  a  mate.  Under 
the  excitement  of  the  moment  he  may  do  foolish 
things,  but  he  is  not  a  fool. 

The  long  legs  of  the  moose  enable  them  to 
travel  with  ease  through  miry  swamps,  deep  snow, 
and  among  fallen  timber.  They  do  not  drag  their 
feet  through  the  snow,  breaking  trail  as  they  go, 
like  cattle,  but  lift  their  feet  above  its  surface 
every  step,  even  though  it  may  reach  a  depth  of 
twenty-four  to  thirty  inches.  Several  animals  will 
walk  one  behind  the  other,  stepping  in  the  same 
tracks  with  such  care  as  to  leave  the  impression 
of  but  one  animal  having  passed.     They  can  step 


The  Moose  313 

over  logs  of  surprising  height.  I  have  seen  the 
snow  piled  upon  logs  to  the  height  of  three  feet 
above  the  ground,  yet  undisturbed  by  them  in 
stepping  over.  They  trot  or  run  with  a  long, 
swinging  stride,  and  rarely  leap,  and  then  never 
more  than  one  or  two  jumps  when  suddenly 
frightened.  They  travel  with  great  rapidity  and 
ease;  they  can  run  through  thick  timber  and 
brush,  scarcely  creating  a  sound.  Often  the  in- 
experienced hunter  is  very  sure  he  has  his  moose 
in  a  certain  thicket  or  brush,  only  to  find,  after  a 
very  careful  approach,  its  bed  in  the  leaves  yet 
warm,  and  the  animal  perhaps  two  miles  away. 
So  acute  is  their  sense  of  smell  and  hearing,  and 
so  careful,  silent,  and  mysterious  their  movements, 
that  they  not  only  detect  the  enemy  under  cir- 
cumstances that  would  seem  impossible,  but  they 
escape  him  without  giving  the  slightest  notice  of 
departure,  running  through  all  sorts  of  tangles 
without  so  much  as  snapping  a  twig.  If  the 
moose  is  suddenly  alarmed  and  recognizes  itself 
observed  by  an  enemy,  it  does  not  endeavor  to 
conceal  its  movements.  If  in  the  brush  or  timber, 
it  will  make  a  bound  and  go  crashing  through, 
smashing  everything  on  its  road  in  the  most  wild 
and  reckless  manner;  if  in  the  open,  it  will  give 
you  one  quick  glance  and  move  off  in  a  long, 
swinging,  and  usually  rapid  trot,  but  never  at  its 
best  speed  so  long  as  in  sight,  for  the  moose  is 


3  H    Oeer  and  Antebpe  of  North  America 

proud  and  dislikes  the  idea  of  expressing  fear. 
Watch  it  carefully,  just  as  it  rounds  the  hill  and 
realizes  it  is  about  passing  out  of  your  sight,  it 
will  suddenly  stop  and  give  you  one  very  short 
look  and  then  away  with  all  the  speed  it  possesses. 
Though  proud,  the  moose  is  full  of  fear,  and  feel- 
ing now  it  is  out  of  your,  sight,  loses  no  time  in 
leaving  you  far  behind. 

The  moose  cannot  be  considered  cowardly  or 
timid,  yet  the  instances  are  very  rare  where  it  has 
been  known  to  attack  man.  Although  a  large 
and  powerful  animal  it  fears  man,  and  always 
avoids  contact  if  possible.  If  cornered  or  seri- 
ously wounded,  it  will  sometimes  show  fight, — 
most  animals  will  do  this,  —  but  the  hunter  has 
been  injured  much  oftener  by  the  common  Vir- 
ginia deer  than  by  the  moose.  Near  Fort  Nor- 
man on  the  Mackenzie,  a  few  years  ago,  a  wounded 
bull  charged  and  killed  an  Indian  hunter  who  in  his 
effort  to  escape  was  held  by  his  clothing  catching 
on  a  snag.  Had  the  bull  missed  him  in  his  first 
charge  he  would  not  have  renewed  it;  few  wild 
animals  will  return  to  a  charge,  failing  in  the  first.1 

I  stopped  three  days  at  a  trading  post  on  the 
Upper  Liard  River  in  the  fall  of  1897.    The  trader 

1  The  sladang  of  the  Malay  Peninsula  is  about  the  only  one  which, 
having  missed  on  his  first  charge,  will  almost  invariably  return  to 
the  attack ;  but  several  species,  notably  the  African  buffalo,  the 
grizzly  bear,  the  tiger,  and  the  black  leopard,  may  usually  be  de- 
pended on  to  return  to  the  attack.  —  Editor. 


Spread,  74  inches 


Spread,  64  inches 
MOOSE   ANTLERS   FROM    ALASKA 


The  Moose  315 

told  me  that  he  had  a  pet  moose  calf  from  the 
spring  before.  It  was  running  loose  in  the  forest, 
and  he  told  me  it  would  often  be  gone  for  three 
days  at  a  time.  It  was  not  at  home  when  I 
reached  the  post,  and  he  was  very  anxious  for  it 
to  come  that  I  might  see  it.  The  second  day  at 
noon,  while  we  were  eating  dinner  in  the  cabin, 
the  door  standing  wide  open,  we  heard  the  jingle 
of  a  bell,  and  the  trader  said,  "  There  comes  Jen- 
nie." Sure  enough  she  came  as  fast  as  her  legs 
could  bring  her  (and  she  was  not  riding  a  bad  set 
of  legs).  She  ran  right  in  at  the  door,  for  she 
was  accustomed  to  coming  into  the  cabin.  The 
moment  she  saw  me,  however,  she  looked  at  me 
very  hard,  her  eyes  grew  larger,  she  sniffed  the 
air,  and  she  backed  quietly  out  of  the  door.  She 
objected  to  strangers.  She  would  play  with  the 
trader,  but  would  not  let  me  get  near  her.  I  had 
a  splendid  opportunity  of  studying  the  movements 
of  this  animal,  the  way  it  carried  its  feet,  legs,  and 
head,  and  many  of  its  manoeuvres,  all  of  which 
were  extremely  interesting.  Often  when  desir- 
ing to  play  it  would  stand  on  its  hind  legs  and 
strike  at  its  owner  with  its  fore  feet  in  a  very 
reckless  and  vicious  manner. 

The  young  of  the  moose  are  dropped  the  latter 
part  of  May.  The  first  calving  rarely  ever  pro- 
duces more  than  one,  but  adult  females  very  fre- 
quently bring   forth    two,  and    I   have   heard  of 


316    Deer  and  Antebpe  of  Nortb  America 

triplets.  I  left  the  Liard  River  the  21st  of  May 
for  the  Nahanna  Mountains,  following  up  a  small 
stream.  On  my  way  into  the  mountains  I  saw  a 
great  many  tracks  of  moose,  which  my  Indians 
assured  me  were  those  of  females,  but  I  did  not 
see  the  track  of  a  single  calf.  I  was  not  hunting 
for  moose,  but  was  travelling  through  a  splendid 
moose  country,  and  was  given  the  opportunity  of 
making  some  important  observations.  On  May 
26  I  killed  a  cow  and  a  calf;  the  calf  could 
scarcely  have  been  a  week  old. 

I  returned  to  the  Liard  by  the  same  route  I 
had  gone  on  May  30,  and  young  calf  tracks 
were  numerous  in  the  sands  along  the  stream, 
and  from  numerous  observations  I  have  made  I 
believe  the  majority  of  the  calves  are  dropped 
between  May  20  and  June  20.  I  have,  how- 
ever, discovered  frequent  irregularities  in  the 
breeding  of  many  varieties  of  wild  animals,  and 
such  irregularities,  though  not  common,  are 
found  among  the  moose.  While  on  the  Kenai 
Peninsula  in  November,  1900,  I  ran  across  a 
young  cow  with  a  calf  not  more  than  eight  weeks 
old.  I  spent  ten  days  in  trying  to  secure  the  pair, 
but  failed,  owing  to  the  difficulty  of  travel  in  the 
deep  snow,  but  we  ran  across  their  tracks  every 
day  during  this  time,  and  I  saw  them  on  several 
occasions.  A  calf  always  remains  with  the  mother 
during  its  first  winter,  and  sometimes  longer.     It 


The  Moose  317 

is  a  very  common  sight  to  see  a  mother  with  her 
year-old  and  baby  moose  together.  But  when  a 
mother  is  preparing  for  a  new  offspring  she  en- 
deavors to  forsake  the  company  of  her  one-year- 
old,  and  she  is  usually  successful.  She  will  resort 
to  methods  that  indicate  her  cunning  and  reason- 
ing power.  She  will  wander  about  in  a  valley 
near  some  stream,  and  while  her  yearling  is  lying 
down  she  will  feed  off  alone  to  the  stream  and 
swim  across,  then  run  rapidly  down  the  other  side 
around  a  bend  out  of  sight,  and  again  taking  to 
the  stream  may  swim  down  it  for  a  mile  or  so 
and  out  again,  keeping  up  this  game  until  she  is 
confident  of  having  lost  the  yearling  completely. 
After  this,  another  move  which  is  a  very  common 
one  is  to  swim  to  some  island  in  the  stream, 
which  she  will  travel  all  over  for  the  purpose  of 
ascertaining  if  it  is  free  from  enemies.  If  she 
finds  it  to  be,  she  will  remain  there  until  her  calf 
is  about  two  weeks  old,  when  she  will  start  with 
it  to  the  mainland.  The  little  fellow  will  have 
no  difficulty  in  keeping  afloat,  but  the  rapid  cur- 
rent nearly  everywhere  in  the  northern  rivers 
would  carry  it  down  stream  if  left  alone,  and  the 
fond  mother  understands  this,  and  with  the  affec- 
tion that  a  moose  mother  knows  she  gets  below 
it,  so  that  the  calf  swimming  and  resting  against 
the  mother's  side  is  steered  in  safety  to  the  main- 
land. 


3 1 8    Deer  and  Antebpe  of  North  America 

Moose  are  great  swimmers  and  think  nothing 
of  crossing  lakes  and  streams  miles  in  width. 
Notwithstanding  the  strong  tides  of  Kachemak 
Bay,  Cook  Inlet,  a  young  bull,  only  two  or  three 
years  ago,  swam  from  a  point  near  Yukon  Island 
across  Kachemak  Bay  to  Homer  Spit,  a  distance 
of  over  eight  miles.  I  have  travelled  the  same 
course  in  a  light-boat,  with  good  oarsmen,  going 
with  the  tide,  and  we  were  over  two  hours  row- 
ing it.  Just  how  long  the  moose  was  in  swim- 
ming it  I  did  not  learn,  but  I  was  assured  by  a 
man  —  entirely  responsible  —  who  was  living  on 
Homer  Spit,  and  who  saw  the  feat,  that  the 
animal  was  not  at  all  exhausted  when  he  landed. 

Possibilities  of  Extinction.  —  The  moose  will 
not  soon  become  extinct.  The  advent  of  the 
prospector  in  Alaska,  thousands  of  men  scattered 
through  its  range  armed  with  the  best  of  rifles, 
is  creating  awful  havoc  in  its  numbers,  and  very 
especially  is  this  the  case  in  the  region  of  the 
Klondyke  and  Stewart  rivers.  Sportsmen  and 
professional  hunters  are  combining  to  make  its 
existence  on  the  Kenai  Peninsula  intolerable. 
And  in  almost  all  parts  of  the  North  the  sleuth- 
like Indian  is  on  its  trail,  equipped  with  modern 
rifle  and  plenty  of  ammunition.  The  moose  is 
having  a  very  different  time  from  what  it  had  a 
few  years  ago,  but  its  wits,  always  alert,  are 
being  further  trained,  and  its  wonderful  sense  of 


The  Moose  319 

smell  and  hearing  help  out  of  many  a  scrape.  So 
keen  are  its  perceptions  of  danger,  and  so  silently 
and  rapidly  can  it  leave  all  danger  behind,  that  the 
best  trained  hunter  is  repeatedly  made  to  recog- 
nize his  own  stupidity  when  the  wits  of  the  two 
are  brought  into  competition.  Some  of  the  many 
other  circumstances  favoring  the  moose  are  the 
splendid  cover  of  their  range,  their  failure  to 
herd  in  large  numbers  like  the  caribou,  their 
great  strength  and  hardihood,  the  immensity  of 
their  territory,  so  far  removed  from  contact  with 
civilization,  and  the  fact  that  while  Indians  are 
now  much  better  equipped  than  in  former  years 
for  moose  destruction,  their  numbers  are  rapidly 
decreasing  rather  than  increasing.  Around  the 
head  waters  of  the  Stickine,  Pelly,  Liard,  and 
Nelson  rivers  in  northwest  British  Columbia,  is 
a  country  of  vast  extent  shut  in  from  all  the  rest 
of  the  world,  a  great  untrodden  wilderness.  It 
is  a  favorite  range  of  the  moose.  The  Indians, 
one  of  its  enemies,  are  dying;  and  no  better 
proof  of  the  inability  of  the  wolf  to  cope  with  the 
moose  under  ordinary  circumstances  is  necessary 
than  that  right  in  the  very  heart  of  this  great 
moose  range  I  have  known  wolves  in  awful  hun- 
ger to  prey  upon  their  own  numbers  through 
inability  to  capture  the  moose. 

Hunting.  —  To    become    a    successful   moose 
hunter  is  to  reduce  hunting  to  a  science,  and  to 


320    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

undertake  to  describe  the  features  involved  and 
the  methods  of  the  hunt  in  detail  would  require 
a  volume;  moreover  the  art  is  one  that  can  be 
acquired  only  by  actual  experience,  and  all  that 
could  be  written  for  the  uninitiated  would  be  of 
but  slight  service.  To  know  how  to  hunt  any 
animal  is  to  know  its  habits  and  peculiarities. 
The  habits  of  the  moose  are  not  so  difficult  to 
learn,  but  he  lives  so  much  in  the  thick  brush 
that  many  of  his  little  eccentricities  are  hard  to 
understand,  and  require  much  time  and  patience 
to  master  them.  Very  much  depends  upon  the 
time  of  year  in  which  one  is  hunting,  as  to  the 
methods  employed.  September  15  to  November 
15  is  the  best  season,  but  in  countries  where  it  is 
necessary  to  protect  the  animals  they  should  not 
be  hunted  before  the  15th  of  October.  When 
the  hunter  pitches  his  camp  right  in  the  thick 
of  a  moose  country  he  should  select,  if  possible, 
some  very  secluded  nook.  He  should  avoid,  as 
much  as  possible,  chopping,  or  making  any  kind 
of  noise.  He  must  live  quietly,  avoid  unnecessary 
big  camp-fires,  and  leave  the  pipe  in  camp  when 
setting  out  for  the  hunt.  The  scent  of  the  pipe 
will  travel  much  farther  on  the  wind  than  the 
scent  of  the  hunter.  Decide  upon  the  country  to 
be  hunted;  ascertain  the  direction  of  the  wind, 
and  make  your  detour  so  as  to  penetrate  the 
hunting-ground  in  the  face  of  the  wind.     If  the 


The  Moose  321 

wind  shifts,  change  the  course  of  travel  to  suit, 
or  work  back  and  forth,  quartering  to  the  wind. 
Be  very  careful  in  turning  a  point  of  the  woods 
or  in  mounting  the  crest  of  a  ridge.  Eyes  and 
ears  should  be  alert;  don't  be  in  a  hurry;  the 
greatest  precaution  is  always  necessary.  Keep  a 
sharp  lookout  for  footprints ;  if  fortunate  enough 
to  find  fresh  ones,  ascertain  the  general  direction 
in  which  the  animal  is  feeding,  If  trace  of  the 
hoofs  is  lost,  observe  the  croppings  from  the  brush, 
the  direction  the  grass  or  weeds  are  bent,  the 
freshly  overturned  leaf,  and,  better  than  all,  esti- 
mate if  the  animal  had  passed  this  point  since 
the  wind  was  from  the  present  point  of  the  com- 
pass ;  if  it  has,  you  can  afford  to  take  chances  on 
its  feeding  and  travelling  with  the  wind.  Note 
the  contour  of  the  country  ahead,  and  calculate 
upon  the  character  of  it  as  nearly  as  possible,  and 
where  the  animal  in  its  leisure  would  be  most 
likely  to  wander;  skirt  this  at  a  safe  distance 
either  to  right  or  left,  as  most  favorable,  keeping 
to  the  highest  ground  as  affording  an  opportu- 
nity to  overlook  the  route  taken  by  the  quarry. 
Never  get  in  a  hurry;  never  allow  yourself  to 
get  in  the  wind  of  the  animal.  If  now  and  then 
the  locality  favors  doing  so,  climb  a  tree  and  care- 
fully scan  the  country  in  every  direction.  Re- 
member, when  it  gets  along  toward  ten  o'clock 
the  animal  is  very  apt  to  lie  down  for  a  rest,  and 


322    Deer  and  Antebpe  of  North  America 

will  likely  remain  very  nearly  where  it  stops 
feeding  until  well  into  the  afternoon.  This  is 
the  time  of  day  for  the  hunter  to  rest  —  all  save 
his  eyes ;  the  eyes  must  never  rest  while  moose 
hunting. 

If  in  pursuing  the  moose  in  this  manner  the 
course  of  its  path  becomes  uncertain,  the  hunter 
may  select  some  favorable  point  and  approach 
at  right  angles  for  the  purpose  of  determining 
whether  or  not  he  has  passed  the  animal  or  if 
it  has  changed  its  course ;  but  he  must  remember 
that  when  the  time  comes  for  the  animal  to  rest 
it  nearly  always  doubles  back  to  the  right  or  left 
of  its  trail  a  short  distance.  One  very  striking 
peculiarity  in  the  animal's  actions  at  such  a  time 
is  that  just  before  lying  down  it  will  run  for  a 
short  distance,  as  if  in  play,  stopping  suddenly, 
as  if  acting  under  orders,  when  reaching  the  point 
upon  which  it  desires  to  rest.  Very  especially  is 
this  little  run  apt  to  be  indulged  in  if  there  are 
two  or  more  animals  together.  It  cost  me  two  or 
three  moose  to  learn  this.  I  was  once  following 
three  animals  in  deep  snow.  I  was  to  the  left  of 
them,  and  had  travelled  such  a  distance  that  I 
became  anxious  to  locate  their  trail,  and  I  cau- 
tiously made  my  way  to  the  right  to  intersect 
their  course,  if  possible.  I  did  not  go  more  than 
three  hundred  yards  until  I  came  into  their  very 
fresh  trail.     I  climbed  a  tree  and  scanned   the 


The  Moose  323 

country  ahead,  locating  nothing  more  than  the 
trail  for  some  distance  through  the  snow.  I  fol- 
lowed this  for  a  short  space,  and  came  to  where 
the  animals  had  been  running,  making  great 
strides.  I  calculated  that  it  was  all  up  with  me, 
but  decided  to  follow  their  tracks  around  a  point 
that  I  might  get  one  more  look  in  the  direction 
they  had  gone,  the  perfectly  natural  instinct  of 
a  hunter.  This  was  a  fatal  move;  they  had 
stopped  short,  and  were  lying  down  just  behind 
a  bunch  of  spruce  not  three  hundred  yards  from 
where  they  had  left  a  walk.  On  my  approach 
they  said  good-by  through  this  clump  of  pines 
which  screened  them  from  a  rifle  ball. 

A  breezy  day  is  always  best  for  moose  hunting, 
as  the  bluster  of  the  wind  makes  it  unnecessary 
for  the  hunter  to  be  absolutely  noiseless.  The 
same  general  principles  may  be  applied  in  hunt- 
ing moose  in  any  part  of  their  country  —  pre- 
suming that  the  hunter  stalks  his  own  game 
unsupported  by  guides  or  Indians.  Few  hunters 
who  visit  the  Maine  woods  for  moose  acquire 
knowledge  of  the  hunt  that  would  be  very  help- 
ful to  them,  if  thrown  upon  their  own  resources 
in  trackless  regions  of  great  extent.  There  is  no 
game  field  in  America  that  so  nearly  affords  the 
hunter  a  parlor  moose  hunt  as  the  woods  of 
Maine ;  but  the  man  who  simply  enjoys  camp 
life,  and  is  not  especially  desirous  of  becoming 


324    Deer  and  Antelope  of  North  America 

an  expert  hunter,  will  find  greater  pleasure  in  the 
game  fields  of  Maine  than  in  wilder  and  more  iso- 
lated regions. 

Previous  to  the  advent  of  the  rifle  in  the  North, 
the  natives  secured  nearly  all  their  moose  by  set- 
ting rawhide  snares  for  them,  but  now  they  much 
prefer  the  rifle.  In  winter  when  the  snow  is  deep 
they  will  often  put  on  a  very  large  pair  of  snow- 
shoes  (a  shoe  slightly  longer  than  they  are  tall) 
and  with  these  travel  with  very  great  ease  over 
the  deepest,  softest  snow  in  pursuit  of  this  royal 
game.  Often  when  fortunate  enough  to  run  onto 
the  fresh  trail  of  an  animal  they  will  follow  it  for 
two  or  three  days  if  necessary,  rather  than  come 
to  camp  without  it.  In  the  practice  of  this  sort 
of  hunting  they  often  perform  some  remarkable 
feats,  things  that  but  few  white  men  would  care 
to  undertake,  for  there  are  few  white  men  that 
care  to  or  can  follow  so  powerful  an  animal,  until 
it  is  run  to  a  standstill,  when  it  has  once  made  up 
its  mind  to  leave  him  behind. 

I  have  known  but  one  white  man  capable  of 
doing  this,  or  who  had  really  trained  himself  to 
do  it.  He  lived  and  hunted  in  the  Cassiar  coun- 
try, northwest  British  Columbia.  He  told  me  he 
once  followed  a  moose  for  three  days  in  bitter 
cold  weather  before  killing  it.  When  he  did  get 
it  he  was  a  long  way  from  home,  and  very  much 
worn  out.     He  dressed  the  animal  before  it  had 


The  Moose  325 

time  to  freeze,  and  then  after  a  hearty  feed  of 
steaks  decided  to  have  a  well-earned  rest  before 
returning  home.  Spreading  the  large  skin  on 
the  top  of  the  snow,  hair  side  up,  then  his  own 
single  blanket  on  top  of  that,  he  rolled  himself  up 
in  them  completely  and  fell  asleep.  When  he 
awoke  the  next  day  the  heavy  green  skin  had 
frozen  solid  and  held  him  perfectly  fast.  He  rec- 
ognized his  unenviable  position,  and  commenced 
to  struggle  violently  for  freedom.  Luckily  he  was 
very  near  the  edge  of  a  bench  of  earth  several  feet 
high,  which  in  his  struggle  he  rolled  down.  The 
moose  skin  struck  a  tree  at  the  bottom  and  being 
frozen  very  hard  broke  from  the  jar  and  released 
him.  I  can  readily  believe  this,  because  extreme 
low  temperature  would  render  such  a  green  skin 
almost  as  brittle  as  glass. 


INDEX 


Adirondacks  — 

Game  preserves,  II,  19. 

Moose  extermination,  6. 

Wapiti  extermination,  131- 132. 

Whitetail  hunting,  etc.,  66, 72,  83. 
Alaska  — 

Caribou  decrease,  279. 

Kenai  Peninsula,  see  that  title. 

Moose  ranges,  294,  299,  303,  318. 
Alces    americanus  —  species    of 

moose,  293,  299. 
Alces  gigas  —  species  of  moose,  293, 

299. 
Alleghany  Mountains  — 

Wapiti  extermination,  132. 

Whitetail  range,  66,  71. 
Antelope  — 

Little  Missouri  range,  46. 

Pronghorn,  see  that  title. 
Antlers  and  horns  — 

Caribou,  259,  260,  263,  279-280, 
284. 

Columbia  blacktail,  254. 

Elk,  190. 

Moose,  299-300. 

Mule-deer,  9-10,  29-30. 

Pacific  coast  mule-deer,  219-220. 

Pronghorn    antelope,    shedding 
horns,  98. 

Wapiti,  131. 

Whitetail,  see  that  title. 
Arctic  regions  —  caribou  range,  260, 
272,  273,  274. 

Bad  Lands  — 

Blacktail  range,  10. 


Bad  Lands  [continued]  — 

Mule-deer  haunts,  10,  31,  34,  37, 

45»  49.  S3.  67. 
Whitetail  range,  34. 
Barren-ground  caribou  — 
Breeding,  274-276. 
Characteristics  and  habits,  273- 

280. 
Differences   from  other  species, 

261,  280-282,  286-287. 
Flesh  of,  276. 
Horn-shedding,  279. 
Migration,  274,  275. 
Range  —  Arctic     regions,     260, 

272,  273,  274. 
Utility    as    food,  clothing,  etc., 

276-277. 
[See  also  Caribou.] 
Bears  — 

Black  bear  ranges,  66. 
Grizzly  bear,  shooting,  80. 
Big  Horn  Mountains  — 
Mule-deer  habits,  44-45. 
Wapiti  extermination,  134. 
Bighorn  — 

Extermination    compared    with 

wapiti,  101. 
Hunting,  qualities  developed  by, 

80. 
Range  of,  67. 
Bird  dog  trained  to  point  deer,  241, 

243- 
Bison,  see  Buffalo. 

Black  bear  and  whitetail  ranges,  66. 
Black    Hills,    pronghorn    wintering 

place,  103,  104. 


327 


328 


Index 


Blacktail  — 

Bounding  movement,  77. 

Columbia  blacktail,  see  that  title. 

Mule-deer  of  the  Pacific  coast, 
see  that  title. 

Rocky    Mountain    blacktail,  see 
Mule-deer. 
Bolson  de  Mapimi  —  mule-deer  hunt- 
ing, 193- 
British  Columbia  — 

Caribou  species,  285. 

Elk  hunting,  172. 

Moose  ranges,  294,  302. 
Bronx  Zoological  Garden  — 

Antelope,  tameness,»tc,  108-109. 

Wapiti  and  whitetail  breeding,  61 . 
Buffalo  — 

Extinction  of,  16,  17. 

Name,  origin  of,  3,  7. 
Butchery   of  game,    18,   20-22,  25, 
230-231,  271-273. 

Cactus  —  food  of  mule-deer,  192-194. 
California  — 

Chaparral,  199,  227. 

Deer  ranges,  226,  227,  256. 

Elk  — 

Decrease,  166,  171,  172,  1 87. 
Size  of,  190. 
Mule-deer,   194,   195,   196,   197, 
226. 
Canada  — 

Moose  ranges  in  Lower  Canada, 

292,  298,  307. 
Mule-deer  ranges,  30. 
Caribou  — 

Antlers,  259,  260,  263,  279-280, 

284. 
Appearance,  259-260. 
Barren-ground  caribou,  see  that 

title. 
Habits,  261. 
Range,  6,  259. 

Species,  distinction  between,  259, 
261,  280-287. 


Caribou  [continued]  — 

Woodland  caribou,  see  that  title. 
Cascades  — 

Deer  ranges,  227,  229,  237. 
Elk  hunting,  184,  187. 
Cassiar   Mountains  —  moose   range, 

294,  302. 
Caton,  Judge  —  deer's  vision,  opin- 
ion, 102. 
Chaparral  of  California,  199,  227. 
Coast   blacktail,   see    Mule-deer    of 

the  Pacific  coast. 
Coast  Range  — 

Blacktail  range,  229,  236,  241. 
Elk    decrease,     170,     171,    174, 
187. 
Colorado  — 

Extermination  of  deer  compared, 

101. 
Mule-deer  habits,  38-42. 
Preservation  of  game,  22,  31,  32, 

63. 
Pronghorn  range,  103. 
Wapiti  range,  133,  134,  146. 
Columbia  blacktail  — 
Antlers,  254. 

Bouncing  movement,  247-248. 
Breeding,  251-252. 
Compared    with     Virginia    and 

mule-deer,  253-256. 
Description,  tail,  horns,  etc.,  226, 

253-256. 
Food,  231,  232. 
Habits,  233. 
Hunting,   difficulties,   etc.,   235- 

253- 
Dogs  trained  to  point  deer, 

241. 
Hounding,  244-245. 
Skulking  in  brush,  240,  241. 
Still-hunting,  241-245. 
Tracking,  233-234,  252-253. 
Keenness   of  senses  —  scent   of 

man,  237-239. 
Migration,  229-230,  251. 


Index 


3*9 


Columbia  blacktail  [continued]  — 
Range,  226-232. 

Heavy  brush,  227,  236. 
Watching  back  track,  252. 
Watering,  233. 
Coquille  River  —  blacktail  hunting, 

232. 
Crusting  —  method  of  hunting  deer, 
7S»  82. 

Deer  — 

Habits,  variability  of,  101-103. 

Hunting,  see  that  title. 

Nomenclature  of,  see  that  title. 

Preservation,  see  that  title. 

Species  of,  4-5. 

[See  also  names  of  species,  Moose, 
Caribou,  etc. 
"  Depouille  "  —  fat  of  caribou,  276. 
Dodge,  Col.  —  characteristics  of 

wapiti,  102. 
Dogs  — 

Hounds,  see  that  title. 

Pointing    deer  —  still-hunting 
blacktail,  241. 

Pronghorn  hunting,  127. 

Elk  — 

Round-horned,  see  Wapiti. 
Yellowstone    Park   preservation, 

23- 
Elk  of  the  Pacific  coast  — 
California,  see  that  title. 
Feeding  and  hiding,  187-188. 
Habits,  190. 
Horns,  190. 
Hunting,  1 72-191. 

Chasing  elk,  177-179. 
Forest  scenery,  179-184. 
Judgment   of    elk   compared 
with  deer,  174-176,  182, 
189. 
Retreat    and    decrease    of   elk, 

167-172,  174. 
Size  of,  190. 


Elkhorn  ranch -house  — 
Pronghorn  hunting,  112. 
Wapiti  hunting,  151,  152. 
[See  also  Little  Missouri.] 

Eskimo  —  caribou  hunting,  278. 

Extermination  of  game,  prevention, 
see  Preservation. 

Fire-hunting  — 

Columbia  blacktail,  246. 
Whitetail,  82-86. 

Game,  see  Deer. 

Game  laws,  see  Preservation  of  game. 

Greenland  —  species  of  caribou,  282, 
286. 

Greyhounds  —  pronghorn  hunting, 
127. 

Grinnell,  G.  B.  —  deer's  vision,  opin- 
ion, 102. 

Grizzly  bear,  shooting,  80. 

Horns,  see  Antlers  and  horns. 
Horseback  hunting,  11,  80,  82,  89, 

115-122,  127. 
Hounds,  hunting  with  — 
Blacktail,  244-245. 
Mule-deer,  brush  cover,  199,  201, 

216-218. 
Whitetail,  86-90. 
Hunting  — 
Bighorn,  80. 

Columbia  blacktail,  see  that  title. 
Costume,  13. 
Dogs,  see  that  title. 
Elk  of  the  Pacific  coast,  see  that 

title. 
Equipment,  13-14. 
Fire-hunting,  see  that  title. 
Horseback   hunting,   II,  80,  82, 

89,  1 15-122,  127. 
Hounds,  see  that  title. 
Jacking,  82,  84. 
Judgment  of  deer  compared  with 

elk,  174-176,  182,  189. 
Long  Island  methods,  88. 


33° 


Index 


Hunting  [continued]  — 
Moose,  see  that  title. 
Mule-deer,  52-61. 
Mule-deer  of  the  Pacific   coast, 

see  that  title. 
Preservation   of   game,   see  that 

title. 
Pronghorn,  see  that  title. 
Qualities   developed   by,    24-27, 

79-82. 
Rifle  for,  12. 

Shifting  for  one's  self,  14-16,  79. 
Spanish  Californians,  skill  of,  172. 
Virginia  deer,  175. 
Wagon  trips,  1 19-12 1,  124. 
Wapiti,  140,  147-164. 
Whitetail,  see  that  title. 
Woodland  caribou,  see  that  title. 

Ice  —  caribou  pursuit,  268,  269. 
Indians  — 

Caribou    destruction,    273,    275, 
277. 

Moose  hunting,  302,  304,  319. 

Jacking — whitetail  sport,  82,  84. 

Kenai  Peninsula,  Alaska  — 

Caribou  decrease  and  species,  279, 

285. 
Moose  range,  292-294,  298,  299, 

302,  309,  318. 

Liard  River  moose,  294,  298,  299, 

302,  303,  314,  316. 
Little  Missouri  — 

Antelope  range,  46. 

Elkhorn    ranch-house,    see    that 

title. 
Extermination  of  deer  compared, 

100. 
Mule-deer  haunts  and  habits,  31, 

37.  45»  53- 
Pronghorn  migration,  103,  104. 
Types  of  country,  C7-68. 


Little  Missouri  [continued]  — 
Wapiti  range,  151. 
Whitetail  habits,  72. 
Long  Island,  deer-hunting  methods, 

88. 
Louisiana,  whitetail  habits,  etc.,  71, 

89. 
Lower    California   mule-deer,     194, 
195,  197,  226. 

Mclllhenny,  J.  A.  —  whitetail  habits, 

etc.,  71,  89. 
Mackenzie  delta,  moose  range,  303. 
Maine  — 

Game  laws  enforcement,  increase 

of  moose,  70. 
Moose  ranges,  292-294,  298,  303, 

307,  323- 
Market     hunters  —  destruction     of 

game,  21-22. 
Mexico,  mule-deer  hunting,  30,  193, 

194. 
Migration  of  deer  — 

Caribou,  271,  272,  274,  275. 
Columbian     blacktail,    229-230* 

251. 
Mule-deer,  37-38. 
Pronghorn,  103. 
Wapiti,  145,  146. 
Miller,  G.  S.  —  Kenai  moose,  299. 
Mississippi  valley,  whitetail  range,  66. 
Missouri  River  — 

Whitetail  range,  100. 
[See  also  Little  Missouri.] 
Montana  — 

Deer  extermination,  69. 
Mule-deer     preservation,     game 

laws,  32,  63. 
Wapiti  range,  133,  134. 
Moose  — 

Antlers,  299-300. 

Breeding,  moose  fights,  etc.,  309- 

310,  3I5-3I7- 
Call,    imitation   and    recognition 
of,  310-312. 


Index 


33* 


Moose  [continued]  — 
Calves,  294,  298. 

Pet  calf  incident,  315. 
Charging,  143,  314. 
Color,  298. 
Extinction  possibilities,  6,  69-71, 

303.  304.  318-319. 
Food,  307-309. 
Habits,  304-318. 
Hunting,  292,  319-325. 

Frozen  skin  anecdote,  325. 

Still-hunting,  80. 
Measurement,  rapid  growth,  294- 

297. 
Range,  5-6,  294,  301-304. 

Forest  country,  291. 

Winter  range,  305. 
Species  and  characteristics,  292- 

301. 
Swimming,  317-318. 
Weight,  297. 
Wolves,  enemy  of  moose,  305- 

307»  319. 

Mule-deer,  or  Rocky  Mountain  black- 
tail— 
Breeding,  49-51. 
Description  of,  9-10,  28-30. 
Enemies  of,  43. 
Gait,  47,  77. 

Habits,  variation  in,  33-47. 
Horns,  9-10,  29-30. 
Hunting,  52-61. 
Migration,  37-38. 
Name,  28. 

Preservation,  31-33,  61-64. 
Range  —  rates  of  extermination, 
10,  30-35,  61-69,  99-100. 
Wire    fences,    passing    through, 

42-43- 

Young,  48-49. 
Mule-deer  of  the  Pacific  coast  — 

Antlers  and  horns,  219-220. 

Compared  with  Columbia  black- 
tail,  253-256. 

Description,  10,  197,  219-223. 


Mule-deer  of  the  Pacific  coast  [con- 
tinued] — 

Destruction  of   grapevines,  etc., 
207-210. 

Food,  192-195. 

Gait,  198. 

Habits  and  movements,  212-216. 

Hunting,  175,  198-207,  210-219. 
Brush — deer  cover,  199-201, 

204-207. 
Hounds,    use    of,    199,    201, 
216-218. 

Lower  Californian  deer,  194, 195, 
197,  226. 

Range,  192-197,  227. 

Senses,  202-204. 

Shrewdness,  205. 

Varieties,  195-197,  222. 

Venison,  223. 

Watering,  193-194. 

Weight,  195,  196. 
"Mule-tailed    deer"   variety,     196, 
222. 

Nahanna     River    country  —  moose 

ranges,  302-303,  316. 
Names  of  deer,  see  Nomenclature. 
Naturalist  qualities  of  hunter,  26-27. 
New  England  — 

Moose  decrease,  69-71. 
Whitetail  range,  69-71. 
Newfoundland,  caribou,  hunting,  etc., 

268,  270,  271,  283. 
New  Hampshire,  game  preserves,  1 1, 

19. 
New  Mexico,  pronghorn  herds,  103. 
Nomenclature  of  deer,  2-4. 
Mule-deer,  28. 
Virginia  deer,  4. 
Wapiti,  7. 
Whitetail,  9. 
Northwest  Tenitory,  moose  ranges, 

294. 
Nova     Scotia,    caribou     specimens, 
268. 


33  2 


Index 


Oregon  — 

Blacktail  hunting,  230,  232. 
Elk  hunting,  172,  182. 

Pacific  coast  — 

Blacktail,  see  Mule-deer  of  the 

Pacific  coast. 
Elk  of  the  Pacific  coast,  see  that 

title. 
Wapiti  range,  9. 
Plains  — 

Pronghorn  ranges  —  attraction  of 

hunting,  98,  104-105,  119, 

122. 
Types  of   country  along  plains 

river,  67-68. 
Prairies,  see  Plains. 
Preservation  of  game  — 
Adirondacks,  II,  19. 
Bronx  Zoological  Garden,  see  that 

title. 
Butchery  of  game,  18,  20-22,  25, 

230-231,  271-273. 
Civilized    countries,    game    pre- 
served by  sportsmen,  148. 
Game  laws  enforcement,  19-20, 

22.  31-33.  63.  7°- 
Mule-deer,  31-33,  61-64. 
New  Hampshire,  II,  19. 
Rates  of  extermination  in  differ- 
ent localities,   1 6- 18,  46, 
69-71,  99. 
Whitetail,  70. 

Yellowstone  Park,  elk  preserva- 
tion, 23. 
Prickly  pear  —  mule-deer  food,  193. 
Professional   hunters,  destruction  of 

game,  21-22. 
Jrongbuck,  see  Pronghorn  antelope. 
Pronghorn  antelope,  or  prongbuck  — 
Breeding,  109-110. 
Enemies,  III. 
Gait,  77. 
Hair,  10,  98. 
Horns,  shedding,  98. 


Pronghorn  antelope  [continued]  — 
Hunting,  m-130. 

Greyhound  chasing,  127. 
Running,  pronghorn  dislike  to 
abandon  course,  128-130. 
Slinging  carcass  to  saddle,  119. 
Wagon  trips,  119-121,  124. 
Water  scarcity,  1 16. 
Migration,  103. 
Observation  and  curiosity  in  time 

of  danger,  106,  114,  123. 
Range  of,  10,  68-69. 

Broken  country  avoided,  105. 
Extermination  compared  with 

other  deer,  98-101. 
Plains,  98,  104-105,  119,  122. 
Wintering  places,  103-105. 
Young,  taming,  etc.,  107-109. 

Queen   Charlotte   Islands  —  caribou 
species,  285. 

R.  caribou,  R.  terranova,  and  others 
—  species  of  caribou,  284- 
286. 
Rangifer  arcticus  —  caribou  species, 

281. 
Rangifer     grcenlandicus  —  caribou 

species,  281. 
Rangifer    tarandus  —  reindeer     of 

Scandinavia,  283. 
Reindeer  of  Scandinavia  and  Spitz  - 
bergen  —  species  of  cari~ 
bou,  283. 
Rifle  for  deer  hunting,  1 2. 
Rocky  Mountain  blacktail,  see  Mule- 
deer. 
Rocky  Mountains  — 
Elk,  size  of,  190. 
Extermination  of  deer  compared, 

99-100. 
Mule-deer  range,  10,  30,  31. 
Wapiti  range,  9,  133,  140,  150, 

152,  153,  154. 
Whitetail  range,  66. 


Index 


333 


Rogue    River   Mountains,   blacktail 

hunting,  232. 
Round-horned  elk,  see  Wapiti. 

Sacramento  valley  elk,  168,  169. 
San  Joaquin  valley  elk,  167,  169. 
Scandinavia    reindeer  —  species    of 

caribou,  283. 
Sheffield,  J.  R.  —  moose  and  deer  in 

northern  Maine,  70. 
Shooting,  see  Hunting. 
Sierra  Nevada  — 

Deer  ranges,  226,  227. 
Mule-deer,  195. 
"Slow-tracking    dog"  —  blacktail 

still-hunting,  241,  243. 
Snow  — 

Caribou  chase,  267-270. 
Whitetail  habits  in  winter,  74-76. 
Soldiers  —  hunters'  qualities,  24,  79, 

82. 
Spanish  Californians,  hunting  skill, 

172. 
Spitzbergen     reindeer  —  species    of 

caribou,  283. 
Stalking  caribou,  266. 
Still-hunting  — 

Columbia  blacktail,  241-245. 
Elk,  187. 
Moose,  80. 

Pacific  coast  mule-deer,  224. 
Whitetail,  81. 

Woodland  caribou,  264-265. 
Stone,   A.  J.  —  caribou   specimens, 

[note]  285. 
Swamps — caribou  still-hunting,  264. 

Virginia  deer  — 

Compared  with  Columbia  black- 
tail,  253-255. 

Distinction  from  Pacific  coast 
blacktail,  226. 

Food,  195. 

Gait,  198,  199. 

Hunting  chances,  175. 


Virginia  deer  [continued]  — 
Leaping  movement,  247. 
Name,  4. 
Watching  back  track,  252. 

Wagon  trips,  1 1 9- 1 2 1,  124. 
Wapiti,  or  round-horned  elk  — 

Antlers,  131. 

Banding  into  herds,  138. 

Breeding,  136-142,  156. 

Calves,  139,  141. 

Challenge,  137,  154,  156. 

Characteristics,  102. 

Charging,  143. 

Description,  8. 

Extermination  compared  with 
other  deer,  8,  ioo-ioi, 
131-135,  145,  149. 

Fighting,  141-142. 

Gait,  141,  144. 

Hunting,  140,  147-164. 

Beauty  of  country,  149-151. 

Migration,  145,  146. 

Name,  7. 

Range,  6,  8,  9. 

Scent,  155. 

Stupidity    in    time    of    danger, 

Washington  state,  elk  hunting,  172. 
Water  — 

Columbia  blacktail,  watering,  233. 
Mule-deer  of  Pacific  coast,  water- 
ing. 193-194. 
Prongbuck  hunting,  1 16. 
Whitetail  — 
Antlers,  9. 

Interlocked   antlers  —  white- 
tail  fight,  76-77. 
Breeding,  71,  74,  76. 
Extermination     compared    with 
other  deer,  65-71, 99-100. 
Feeding,  72-74. 

Habits,  variation  in,  65,  71-77,96. 
Hunting,  78-97. 
Crusting,  75,  82. 


334 


Index 


Whitetail  [continued]  — 

Hunting  [continued']  — 
Fire-hunting,  82-86. 
Hounding,  86-90. 
Still-hunting,  81. 

Movements,  grace  of,  77. 

Name,  9. 

Preservation,  70. 

Range,  9,  30,  33-34. 

Snow  season,  74-76. 

Swimming,  87. 

Virginia  deer,  see  that  title. 

Yards  formed  by,  74-76. 
Wilcox,  A.  —  wapiti  hunting,  136. 
Wolves  —  enemies  of  deer,  44,  305- 

307.  319- 
Woodland  caribou  — 
Antlers,  263. 
Breeding,  262,  263. 
Color,  263. 
Differences  from    other   species, 

161,  280-287. 
Food,  262. 
Forest  dwellers,  260,  261. 


Woodland  caribou  [continued]  — 
Habits,  261-262. 
Hoofs,  268. 
Hunting,  263-273. 

Ice,  pursuit  on,  268,  269. 
Newfoundland,      butchery, 

271. 
Snow-shoes,  chasing  deer  on, 

267-270. 
Stalking,  266. 
Still-hunting,  264-265. 
Migration,  271,  272. 
Weight,  273. 
[See  also  Caribou.] 
Wyoming  — 

Deer  extermination,  69. 
Mule-deer  preservation,   32,   63, 

69. 
Wapiti  range,  133,  134,  146. 

Yards,  whitetail,  74-76. 
Yellowstone  Park  — 

Elk  preservation,  23. 

Wapiti  range,  134,  146. 


F.C. 


AMERICAN  SPORTSMAN'S  LIBRARY 

Edited  by  CASPAR  WHITNEY 
To  be  completed  in  ten  volumes,  with  numerous  illustrations 


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